Fixing Time
by Flaming Trails
Summary: Doc's first trip into the future. Basically the set up of my nonsequel universe.
1. Tying Up Loose Ends

Fixing Time

A Back To The Future Story

By Flaming Trails

Disclaimer: I don't own BTTF. If I did, I wouldn't have written "Catfight".

Prologue: Doc's first future trip. I am aware of Dave McFly's story, and fully suggest you read his.

  


Chapter 1

Saturday, October 26th, 1985

Hill Valley, California

1: 35 A. M.

Marty McFly watched in shocked horror as Doc Brown, his best friend, was gunned down by a Libyan terrorist group. His heart felt like it was going to burst from grief. And he had been so close to saving him, too. He opened his mouth to cry out.

His other self took care of that function for him. "NOOOO! BASTARDS!"

Marty watched numbly as his younger self repeated the actions he recalled doing a week - or was it only a few minutes? - earlier. The DeLorean took off, speeding around the van, drawing Marty's eyes back to Doc. For no good reason, he threw himself down the hill, getting up again just in time to see Younger Marty travel back to 1955. The Libyan terrorists, blinded by the flash, crashed into the Fox Photo booth in the middle of the lot. Marty stared at them a moment. When he was sure they weren't moving, he ran to Doc's side. "Doc! Doc!!" 

He knelt down by the body and turned it over. Doc rolled over limply, his usually expressive brown eyes blank. Marty began to weep. "No. . . . No. . . ." he whispered, turning away. "_Doc. . . . Damn it, Doc. . . ._"

Turned away like he was, he didn't see Doc blink his eyes, take a slow breath in, or sit up. He _did_ sense that there was another presence behind him. Nervous that it was a terrorist or policeman, he turned around.

Only to find Doc looking at him with a slight 'deer in the headlights' expression.

Marty's brain nearly stopped working completely. "You're alive," he breathed, hardly daring to believe his eyes.

Doc stared at him a moment more, then unzipped the front of his radiation suit. The dark kevlar of a bullet-proof vest revealed itself. Marty gawked in disbelief. "Bullet-proof vest? How did you know?" he demanded. "I never got a chance to tell-"

Doc smiled and pulled something from an inner pocket. Marty's voice died as he looked at it. He glanced at Doc dubiously as he took it, thinking, "_No way. It can't be. Not after everything he said._"

But it was. It was his letter to Doc, taped up and yellowed with age. Marty looked at it, then at Doc. "What about all that talk," he probed, "about screwing up future events, the space-time continuum?"

Doc kept smiling. "Well, I figured, what the hell."

Still not sure if he was hallucinating, Marty carefully touched Doc's face. The skin was there, alive and warm. A slow smile of his own appeared. "Damn it, Doc, I'm so glad you're alive!" he said joyfully, throwing his arms around his best friend and pulling him into a hug.

Doc let out a cry of pain. Marty pulled away, concerned. "Doc?"

"Sorry," Doc apologized. "It appears I was badly bruised by that barrage of gunfire. The vest saved my life, but couldn't prevent the bullets from harming me in some way."

Marty hit Doc's shoulder, suddenly upset. "Why'd you have to get messed up with those Libyans, Doc?! Why'd you let yourself get shot?!"

"It was for the safety of the space-time continuum, Marty," Doc explained. "If I hadn't done all this, you would have most likely never gone to 1955, and it's possible I would have died for real or some other disaster could have occurred. We might have even caused a looping paradox."

Marty looked over at the terrorists' overturned van. There didn't seem to be any signs of life from over there. Still, the teen wasn't about to take chances. "C'mon, Doc, let's get out of here before these guys wake up. I don't want you to get shot again."

"I concur, Marty. Let's go." Marty grabbed his skateboard, and they both hopped in the van. Einstein gave a soft whine as they got in. "Oh, don't worry boy," Doc said reassuringly, giving Einy a pat. "Everything's fine. We're all okay."

"Yeah, but I'm never gonna be able to come here again without getting chills," Marty admitted as they pulled out of the parking lot.

"To tell the truth, I don't think I'll be able to either," Doc admitted. "Being shot at close range is _not_ going to be a favorite memory."

Marty nodded, keeping his eyes firmly on the Libyans - then he abruptly noticed the mall's sign. "What the hell? _ Lone_ Pine Mall?"

Doc nodded, not understanding Marty's puzzlement. "Yes, Lone Pine Mall. Built on Farmer Peabody's old farm. I told you that."

"Yeah, I know, but - but I remember it as _Twin _Pine_s_ Mall," Marty explained, baffled.

Doc became worried. "You do?"

"Yes. Why? Is there anything wrong, Doc?" Marty got very frightened suddenly. "I didn't totally screw up the past, did I?"

"I don't think so, but that _is_ a significant change. I recall you telling me you ended up on Peabody's farm when you first entered 1955. Did you run over one of the pine trees he had fronting the ranch?"

"It was an accident, Doc!" Marty protested, misinterpreting Doc's question. "He was shooting at me! I just wanted to get away."

"Well, your getaway changed history. In fact, you'll probably be noticing a lot of small changes to Hill Valley due to your mere presence in the past. It'll be like your own private joke with the space-time continuum," he chuckled.

Marty smiled a little, then grew pale with dread. Doc noticed this out of the corner of his eye and stopped the van. "Marty? Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

Marty looked at Doc nervously. "We're still friends, right Doc? And I'm still named Marty, right? And I have a girl named Jennifer? Damn it Doc, how much did I change?"

"Calm down. Yes, of course we're still friends. If we weren't, why would you have come to the mall tonight? Your name is Martin Seamus McFly, is that any different?" Marty shook his head. "And yes, you have a girlfriend named Jennifer."

Marty breathed a long sigh of relief. "Whew. I thought for a minute I might have a - a - a boyfriend."

Doc patted his back, starting the van up again. "I knew you would probably worry about that. I assure you, you're completely straight."

Marty relaxed a little in the seat. "How badly do you think I screwed up the time-line, Doc?"

"I don't think you did any major damage. Things have changed from your perspective, of course, but I'm sure it's mostly how you recall it. Would you like an example?"

"Yeah, how we first met."

"All right. We met when Fred Jacobson flung you into my garbage cans. Of course, I recognized you from 1955 and brought you inside immediately." He smiled. "I couldn't believe we met in such an undignified manner."

Marty had to smile there. "Yeah, I know. So far my memories are matching up. Were my parents leery of you at the beginning? Mom certainly wasn't too happy about us meeting."

"Less than you recall, I'll bet. After all, this pair knew me as 'Calvin Klein's uncle'. But they were worried about my reputation. They eventually warmed to me, though."

"And everything just sorta went from there?"

"Yes. I knew that we would form a relationship, but I didn't try to push it. I understood I had to act like this was the true first time for both of us." He grinned. "That birthday party you and Jennifer threw for me took me completely by surprise, though. . . ."

Marty shook his head. "This is _weird_, having different memories from everyone else. Is it going to be like this for the rest of my life?"

"I doubt it," Doc reassured him as they continued on. "Let me get the DeLorean back to the lab, and I'll explain it more clearly."

"So long as it's in English," Marty said wearily.

"Can't promise anything, but I'll try." Doc winked, making Marty laugh.

They retrieved the stalled DeLorean and headed back to Doc's home/garage/lab. Doc unloaded the time vehicle and examined it, then sat Marty down in a seat and wheeled over a blackboard. "A visual aid will probably help you to comprehend it better." He drew a line on the board and labeled it 'A'. "This is your original time line. The one you retain memories of. The past is over here, the future is at the opposite end, and 1985 is somewhere in here." He labeled the points with the appropriate letters and numbers. "Now, using the time machine, you went into the past and changed things, first by accident, then by necessity." He drew an arc from '1985' to the 'Past'. "With me so far?"

"Yeah," Marty nodded, yawning behind his hand.

Doc nodded back and drew a diagonal line from where the arc met the original line. He stopped midway and drew a horizontal coming from it. He labeled the horizontal 'B' and put '1985' and 'Future' on it at the appropriate spots. "Your actions caused the time-line to skew into this tangent. The past was unaffected, but the present and the future were. This is essentially a whole new time-line."

Marty got confused. "But what about time-line A? What happened to it?"

In response, Doc picked up the eraser and wiped time-line A away from the tangent. "It doesn't exist anymore. It has _become_ time-line B. Theoretically-"

"Stop right there, Doc. No theoreticals."

Doc smiled. "Too late to think about all that?"

"I'm still trying to process what you just told me. So, what's going to happen to me?"

"Given a little time, you'll remember this changed time-line. Your old memories will be erased, just as the former time-line was erased."

Marty frowned. "But I don't _want_ my memories changed."

"There's nothing you can do about it, Marty. And it'll be better for you. You won't be frightened or upset by the differences in what you remember and what now is. And soon, those old memories will be just like some nearly-forgotten dream." He ruffled Marty's hair gently. "Just relax, Marty. Go along with the flow of the time stream. It will turn out for the best if you do."

Marty just shrugged, then looked at Doc. "As long as I've got you, Jennifer, and my family, I'll be fine."

Doc was touched. "Thank you, Marty." He watched the teen yawn loudly. "I think I'd better get you home to bed. And I have to complete my intended experiment."

"You mean going to the future?"

"Precisely. I'll kill two birds with one stone and just take you home in the DeLorean."

"What about the plutonium, Doc? And cash? Won't you need a ton of money for the future?"

"I've got money, Marty. The Libyans paid me $5,000 to get the bombs they wanted. And a trust fund I put aside just for the purpose has yielded more that $2,000. I'm sure I'm prepared for all expenses, no matter _what_ inflation is like in the future." He looked out toward the van. "As for the plutonium, I hope to take advantage of alternative power sources in the future. I'll return the unused portion to the government. No sense in keeping it around if it's not useful."

"You, saying that," Marty snorted, then frowned. Doc grinned at him. "Relax, Marty. I'm still a packrat. I think I might even still have the old mind-reading device from 1955 hanging around here somewhere."

Marty grinned. "Cool. I'm glad you're getting rid of that plutonium though. I'm gonna have nightmares about tonight, I bet."

Doc sighed. "I think I will too. I'm very sorry I had to put you through that, Marty. Trust me, seeing those terrorists point that gun at you was almost enough to make me give up my ruse."

"This is gonna sound weird, but I'm glad you didn't." Marty collapsed into the passenger's seat of the DeLorean. Einstein, not wanting to be left out, barked and leapt into the small space between the 2 seats. The friends each gave him a ruffle as Doc climbed in and drove out.

They arrived at Marty's house at around 2: 00 A. M. Marty got out, then turned back to his friend. "So how far ahead are you going?"

Doc shrugged. "About 30 years. It's a nice round number."

Marty reached in and shook his hand. "Look me up when you get there. I guess I'll be around -- 47."

"I will," Doc promised with a smile.

Marty was reluctant to let go. He didn't want Doc disappearing so soon after all of his adventures. After all, he was still coming to grips with his being shot at by terrorists with an AK-47. Still, Doc seemed to know what he was doing. And Marty knew how obsessive Doc could get about his experiments. "Take care," he said with a final shake.

Doc's smile seemed to waver a little. Marty got the feeling he was having second thoughts about leaving too. He appeared to hesitate, then replied, "You too," his voice lower and softer than usual.

Marty could tell there was a deeper meaning behind that simple phrase. It somehow encompassed how grateful his friend was and how much he wanted Marty to stay safe. "Right," he said, feeling a little embarrassed by the strong emotion he felt coming from his friend. "Buh-bye, Einy," he said, ruffling the dog's fur. He started to turn away, then abruptly remembered something. "Oh, and Doc?" Doc looked at him. "Watch that re-entry, it gets a little bumpy."

Doc nodded, and Marty could still sense those feelings holding strong. "You bet." Marty closed the door, and they shook hands one last time through the window, the teen frowning slightly as he wondered how long Doc would be in the future. Then Doc backed out of the driveway and drove down the street. A moment later he turned around and accelerated in the other direction. Marty waved at him with his skateboard as he passed, then watched as his friend disappeared into the future. Silently wishing him a good trip, Marty headed to his room and to some much-needed sleep.


	2. Into the Future!

Chapter 2

Wednesday, October 21st, 2015

Hill Valley

2: 30 A. M.

For a moment, as his vision cleared, Doc thought the machine had malfunctioned. Nothing in Lyon Estates looked different at first. Then his eye caught a fence made up of glowing posts around a house. Other buildings had additions he had never seen before, and in the weak light, it looked like none of the front doors had doorknobs. It was the future, all right. The scientist looked excitedly at Einstein. "We did it, boy! We made it! This is the year 2015! We're the first people to ever pass through the space-time continuum and arrive in the future!"

Einstein just yawned and settled himself on the passenger seat. Doc sighed. "Maybe I should have asked Marty if he wanted to come. Show some excitement, Einy."

As he slowed the car, he heard the soft wail of police sirens nearby. He looked out both windows and in the rearview mirror, but could see no police cars. What was even stranger was that the noise seemed to be coming from overhead. On a whim, he stuck his head out the window and looked up.

There was the belly of a very futuristic-looking car passing over him. It didn't even seem to have any wheels at first, just propulsion jets that allowed it to fly. As it landed, however, Doc saw the jets stop and fold up into normal street wheels. He marveled at the sight. "Flying cars. Fascinating." A brainstorm hitting, he added mentally, "_Just perfect for time travel!_"

A female police officer with blond hair emerged from the cruiser and approached his vehicle. "Evening sir. That's a very nice car you have there," she whistled, admiring the time machine. "A vintage 1982 DeLorean. You must be rich, these things run, in poor condition, around 6 mil!"

Doc blinked, astonished at how valuable DeLoreans had become. "Well, I've had this car since the 80s," he explained. "I'm an inventor. I use the car for various fuel experiments."

"Ah. Well, we pulled you over because we heard a really loud triple boom in the neighborhood. That's not exactly usual late at night. Was that you?"

"Yes, I'm very sorry. The engine's been acting up," Doc semi-lied. "I'll get it repaired as soon as possible. I've been meaning to get this vehicle into the air for a while now. I'll just have the mechanics look at that too, Officer-" he squinted to read her electronic name tag on her hatband"-Reese."

"Fine by me. Let me just get you identified for our records." She reached down into her overladen toolbelt and pulled free a simple silver box with a plate on the side. "Just press your thumb to the plate."

Curious, Doc did just that. The machine beeped, then recited his vital statistics in a cool mechanical voice. "Brown, Dr. Emmett Lathrop. Age: 93. Date of Birth: October 22nd, 1921. Current Address: 27943 West Oak Lane. Arrests: None. Warrants: None. Convictions: None. Current stop is for?"

Reese had gone very white upon hearing his name, for some reason. She looked at him, then at the machine, then at him. She shook her head, obviously incredulous. "I keep telling the chief we have to update the system," she muttered cryptically. "Er - just follow this road into town, Dr. Brown. A motel should be available for you and your dog. And remember to get your car looked at, please."

Doc, still wondering at the advances made in police work and fingerprinting, shook himself out of his trance. "Huh? Oh, of course, Officer," he nodded. He couldn't help but feel a bit spooked at the way she was looking at him. "Thank you for the directions." He nodded a goodbye and drove off.

Reese flopped back into the driver's seat of her car. "Who was it?" her partner, Lucy Foley, asked, noting Reese's troubled face. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Jaime."

Reese swallowed hard. "If you believe the PrintBox - that man was my great-uncle Emmett."

Wednesday, October 21st

6: 04 A. M.

Doc hopped forward a few hours before entering the Town Square. He was so excited by being in the future that sleep was no longer an option for him. As he pulled into the street, he noted a few other cars doing the same. The only difference is that they came down from a highway in the air, aided by a ramp. Doc smiled expectantly as he thought about being able to do that.

He returned his attention earthward, gawking at everything. The Town Square had come alive again, bursting with new businesses. In various places around the square, he caught sight of a cosmetic surgery store, Bottoms Up; a telephone store, Verizon TV ("_huh?_"); a health spa or club called a RevitaClinic, a 'vidbook' store with the sign "Reissue of the classic A Match Made in Space!" ("_Great Scott, George just wrote that!_), the Statler dealership, now in Hondas; and the place he was looking for - a garage with the name Goldie Wilson III Mechanics. 

Doc turned towards the garage, but instead of driving directly in, he parked in a nearby alley instead. Making sure no one was paying attention to him, he carefully unhooked all the time machine specific parts. He didn't want any of them damaged by his upgrade, or worse, for anyone to guess the car's secret. Once he was satisfied they were inoperable, he entered the garage.

A young man in multicolored pants and a green shirt with a plus and minus on it greeted him. "Welcome to Goldie Wilson III's Mechanics. Hover Conversions, Basic Repairs, or Other?"

Doc considered the question a moment. "I want a hover conversion, but my engine has been acting up too. What department is that?"

"Hover Conversions. They'll have to look at your engine anyway." He ran an appreciative eye over the DeLorean. "That is one nice car. But what's all this funny-looking junk on it?"

"Don't touch anything," Doc warned sternly. "I'm an inventor. I'm experimenting with power devices."

"Why don't you just get a Mr. Fusion for the car?" the guy asked. "Provides up to 2 full gigawatts of power if you fill it up with enough shit."

Doc was liking the future better and better. "I don't know, how much are they? My experiments use up most of my money."

"Ah, there's a bunch of different ones. Drive up to the Hover Conversions level and they'll show you. Up that ramp, bear left, then up the other ramp."

"Thank you." Doc drove up into a service bay, filled with a number of cars. The scientist did a double take as he spotted an Edsel among the crowd. A female and a male mechanic came over, admiring the car as everyone else had. "Nice DeLorean."

"Thank you. Be careful, those are delicate, and may be very hot at the moment."

"What are they?" the woman asked, studying the blue coils on the sides of the car.

"Power dispersal coils. I'm an inventor by trade, and I think it's the perfect time to give my experimental car an upgrade. I would like a hover conversion, an engine readjustment to improve performance, and, if my current budget allows for it, a Mr. Fusion."

"Certainly, sir. Step out of the car and come over here."

Doc did so, warning the mechanics who appeared on the scene not to disturb anything that looked unfamiliar. A rack of odd-looking machine slid out of the wall as the female mechanic pressed a button. "Here's the standard model, the power capacitor built right into the lid. This is the new double power model, it's capable of 4 gigawatts of power. This is the smaller, less conspicuous model, it's become a very popular seller. I think Fusion Industries is working on a recessed model, but that won't be coming out for a while."

"I don't want to spend too much, so standard will do just fine," Doc said, although he looked longingly at the smaller model. "_Damn, if I had more money to spend. . . ._"

"All right, sir. Just sign here, and we'll have your car ready in about 4 to 6 hours." She offered him an electronic clipboard. "Just say your name into that box there."

Doc very nearly said his real name, but decided against it at the last second. It wouldn't do to cause any confusion with his older self. "_If I have one,_" he remembered mentally. "_Hopefully my genetic structure allows for a long lifespan. Great Scott, 93 years old! Wait - 94; tomorrow is my birthday in this time period. Simply amazing._" "Dr. Michael Lloyd," he said instead.

"Thank you, Dr. Lloyd." She and her fellow mechanics turned their attention to his car. Doc whistled for Einstein to get out. The mutt did, but immediately lay down again, whining. Feeling bad for his loyal pet, Doc went over and picked him up, grunting as he did so. "You need to lose some weight, boy. Excuse me, you wouldn't happen to know of a kennel where I could keep my dog?" Hearing his stomach growl, he added, "And of a good place to get breakfast?"

"Yeah, there's a kennel just up the street. And if you want a good deal on a breakfast, catch a cab to Retro B & B. Terrific pancakes, and they don't take an arm and a leg."

"I will, thank you." Doc found an elevator and took it back down to the ground floor, mentally organizing a list of things to do. As he left the drive-in area, he noticed a dollar bill on the ground. He picked it up and noted with dismay that 2015 paper cash looked much different from his regular 1985 money. "_All right then. First, get Einstein to the kennel so the poor dog can catch up on his sleep. Then I'll figure out this new dilemma with my money._" Sighing and pocketing the new bill, he carried his sleepy dog over to the kennel, killing his arms in the process.

To his surprise, it wasn't a human who greeted him this time. Sitting on the desk was what appeared to be a large, flat screen of some sort. A young woman's face was on it, computer-generated but very life-like. She smiled at Doc as he stared at her. "Welcome to Kerri's Kennels, sir. How are you today?"

"I'm - I'm fine, thank you," Doc said, studying the screen. "How are you?" The minute he said it, he felt dumb. Here he was, asking what appeared to be a computer how it was.

The CGI girl didn't seem bothered. "I'm okay, thank you for asking. You look a little unnerved though, sir."

"I was expecting a human," Doc admitted, still marvelling.

"The normal human staff is on vacation, but I usually handle this anyway," CGI explained. Doc nodded, highly impressed by her human qualities. "_I should pick up a computer her and hide it somewhere at home._"

"All right. I would like to leave my dog here for a few hours. It's my first time in Hill Valley, and I'd like to look around," Doc fibbed. "Normally I'd take - Joey-" Einstein barked and looked at him "-but we've had a long night, and I'm sure he'd prefer to get some sleep."

"Okay," CGI nodded. "How long do you think you'll be gone?"

"Most likely I'll pick him up tonight," Doc said, seeing a sub-screen pop up under CGI's face with the desired information being entered. "My name is Dr. Michael Lloyd." He patted Einstein.

"And what sort of pen do you want? Standard suspended animation or something a bit more fancy?"

Doc had the good sense not to look surprised at the phrase 'suspended animation'. "I don't have much to spend, so I had better take the standard."

"That's fine. Joey will be in S. A. Pen 5. He won't even know you're gone. When you come back, just give me your name and the pen number. It's $100 an hour, just so you know."

Doc felt his heartbeat speed up a bit. "_Uh-oh. I didn't count on things being that expensive. And considering all I have to do. . . ._" He swallowed and nodded. "Okay." He ruffled Einstein's fur. "Goodbye, boy. Have a nice nap." Einstein licked his fingers. Doc gave him a final pat as CGI called for 'Gloria'. Doc was amused to see Gloria looked like a bit like a metal E. T. with treads, arms, a wig, and synthetic skin. The robot picked up Einy and carried him away. Thanking CGI, he left the kennel.

Once outside, he pulled out the dollar he'd found. "Damn. I wonder if there's a bank around here that does exchanges," he mumbled, looking around the jazzed - up square.

His attention was distracted by the courthouse. He hadn't immediately noticed it when he had first arrived, but now he could see it had really changed. The front was smoked glass, and a new sign proclaimed it was now a mall! The parking lot had metamorphosed into a park, complete with a crystal clear pond. According to a rather large stairwell leading underneath, this was the roof of the rest of the new mall. Doc had to smile when he saw their logo - lightning hitting a clock. "_God, that seems like yesterday, not 30 - 60? - years ago. Time certainly does fly._"

His interest aroused, he looked at the clock tower atop the courthouse. That was still the same, mostly. Doc noted with a grin the piece of the ledge he had accidentally broke off was still missing. The clock itself was still stuck, but now covered by a piece of protective plastic. "_That must have cost a pretty penny._"

The thought reminded Doc of his current problem. Scanning the square again, he spotted a store named Blast From The Past. He walked over and entered. As he had guessed from the name, they were an antique store, and they had quite a selection. Some of the stuff the scientist didn't recognize at all ("_Who the heck is Harry Potter?_"), but most of it was familiar. For some reason, that made him feel very old.

"May I help you?" a voice asked. Doc turned to see a woman in a rather clown-like yellow shirt with brightly colored buttons and earrings and finger rings to match. From what he'd seen of future fashions, his ensemble of Hawaiian shirt and cargo pants was starting to look normal. "Are you looking to buy or sell? We take everything prior to 1999."

"Well, I have a rather large sum of cash from the 1980s," Doc started, pulling out his $8,000. The woman's eyes glowed. "I was wondering if you would like to purchase it from me."

"Oh, I'm always looking for antique bills," the woman said, happily taking the money from Doc and rifling through it. "I'm something of a collector. Antique money fascinates me." She held a $20 up to the light. "Amazing, simply amazing." She continued skimming through the large stack. "Okay, mostly series 83 to 85, all in extremely good condition too. . . . You wouldn't happen to have any change from this era?"

"Uh, yes." Doc reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of spare change. The woman grinned widely and examined them. "I haven't seen a quarter since 2011," she said, taking them. "Especially not the ones with the eagles on the backs. Well, this would certainly be a great addition to my collection, at the least." She picked a small device up off the desk and began typing things into it. "If you'd press your thumb to the plate here, I can transfer the money right into your banking account."

Doc thought fast. "I'd prefer to have it in cash." The clerk gave him a strange look. "I've made some bad investment decisions in the past. My credit rating is getting low."

"Going into yellow zone, huh?" Doc nodded, relieved his excuse made sense to her. "No problem, I get requests like that from time to time. Just a moment." She calculated an amount on her device. "The total is $1.5 million for all of it."

Doc could have jumped for joy. He managed to restrain himself and said as causally as he could, "Great Scott. I wasn't aware 80s money would be so valuable."

"Where have you been? This is the 'I Love The 80s' decade!" the woman laughed, handing him his newfound wealth. "Naturally, people want anything from then - myself included. I'm surprised you're selling."

"Like I said, bad investments," Doc shrugged, splitting the massive amount up into separate pockets. "Thanks a lot."

"You're very welcome. Stop by anytime if you have anything else to sell." The woman joyously took her new paper into the back room. Doc whistled a tune as he left the store and headed for the Courthouse Mall. He had some purchases to make.


	3. Marty Junior Hmm

Chapter 3

Wednesday, October 21st

12: 02 P. M.

Doc wandered over to the Café 80s, his stomach growling loudly. He had spent a busy morning exploring Hill Valley and equipping himself. The entire town had taken a turn for the better, with cleaner and quieter streets and less pollution. He had bought himself an appropriately futuristic outfit - a gold jacket, a red shirt with white Chinese symbols, yellow cushioned pants, green calf socks, and a pair of 'hiking sneakers'. Everything was outfitted with small computers, so he didn't have to worry about adjusting anything. He had also purchased a binocular card and a sleep-inducing alpha rhythm generator, E-Z Sleep by brand. He was sure both objects would find their uses in his world.

Pausing at the entrance to the restaurant, he did a double take as he gazed inside. The large windows gracing the front allowed you to see the interior in all its glory. The place was filled with 80s memorabilia. A set of TVs behind the counter displayed menu choices, as well as old 80s TV shows. Doc easily recognized 2 of his favorites, "Taxi" and "Family Ties". By the counter there were 2 exercise bikes with attached headsets. Wanting a closer look at the side walls, Doc walked in.

He was even more amazed then he had been before. The right wall had a line-up of yellow signs, with messages like "Baby on Board" and "Dead wife in trunk". Doc stared at them uncomprehending for a few moments before noticing another sign next to them: "Circa 1988." "Great Scott," he breathed. "I'm seeing memorabilia from the future."

He ran his eye along the walls, eagerly taking it all in. Masks of famous 80s people and some vintage guitars hung against the sign wall, while an arcade was pressed up against the back of a booth behind him. Doc nearly laughed aloud when he saw the sign above the Pac-Man machine: "Priceless Artifact! DO NOT TOUCH!"

Suddenly, he heard a voice behind him. "Welcome to the Cafe 80s," a warm falsetto said. Doc spun around to see a robot running along track on the ceiling. The speaker was a computer-generated Michael Jackson on a video screen, with a tray for carrying food and accepting money underneath. "Our special today is grilled sushi, with hot sauce, peppers, and your choice of meats, chicken, be-be-beef or pork."

Before Doc had time to digest that, another one of the robots rolled up, this one with the Max Headroom-like face of Arnold Schwarzenegger. "No. My circuitry says the best deal is the Ultimate Retro lunch - burgers, fries, and a milkshake all straight out of the 50s."

"Don't be bad," Michael argued. "The sushi is better."

"My mission is to terminate this great food."

As if the scientist wasn't hampered enough, a new vidwaiter joined this, a female this time. Doc recognized her as Madonna. "Now wait! Everyone knows the best deal is on 'La Isle Bonita'! A tropical all you can eat! Justify my love!"

All 3 vidwaiters began babbling at once, arguing with each other and trying to convince Doc their food choice was the best. The scientist finally snapped. "QUIET!"

The robots moved back, actually showing surprise. "Sir?"

"If this is how you think waiters treated their customers back in the 80s, you're dead wrong," Doc snapped. "The Terminator wins. I liked what I heard there." He turned to the Arnie bot. "I'll have a bacon cheeseburger, fries with no ketchup, and a chocolate milkshake."

"Mission accepted." The vidwaiters left him in peace. Shaking his head, Doc collapsed onto a stool and started watching "Taxi". "You'd think they were getting paid by the customer," he quipped to no one in particular.

Doc's peace only lasted a few minutes. As he accepted his food from Arnie, somebody burst into the cafe. Doc turned to see a teenager who was the spitting image of a teen Biff Tannen! At least, if Biff had ever lived in the future. His clothes were dark and tough-looking, complete with a spiky cap and horned boots. Electronic noises accompanied his every move. His face seemed to be set into a permanent scowl. Yup, he was a tried and true Tannen.

'Biff' glared around. "Anybody seen that low-res McFly?" he demanded. His voice was higher than Biff's making him sound permanently stressed. Everyone shook their heads in the negative. "If he comes in, tell him I want to see him." He went back outside, slamming the door.

Doc blinked. "McFly?" he whispered. What did Marty - or his family - have to do with _that_ kid?

He soon got an answer as the door opened again. "Pepsi Perfect," called a strangely familiar yet strangely unfamiliar voice. Doc turned again to see another teenager, _this_ one the spitting image of Marty! He stared as the kid approached the counter beside him. It had to be Marty's son, no doubt about that. But there was something - off about him. His clothes were wrinkled and mussed, and one sleeve of his auto-fit jacket dangled over his hand. His hair, darker than Marty's, stuck out in all directions under his color-changing baseball cap. And, most disturbing of all, his voice reminded the scientist more of George, the young geeky version.

'Marty', receiving and opening his Pepsi, noticed Doc staring at him. "What?" he asked nervously. "Do I know you?"

Doc shook himself out of his trance. "You look like someone I know," he replied, surprised the Marty clone didn't recognize him. 'Marty' just shrugged and went back to his soda, smiling at the pretty girl beside him. Doc slowly started on his own food, keeping an eye on the teen. This was starting to look like all too much like Marty's first day in 1955, as his friend had described it to him.

The Biff clone reentered the cafe, this time trailed by a gang of 3. All of them looked just as nasty as their leader. His eyes found 'Marty' immediately. "Hey McFly!"

'Marty' spun around. For a moment, pure terror flitted across his face. Then he managed a weak, nervous grin. "Griff. Guys," he greeted the group. He pulled up his sagging sleeve and tried to look causal. "How's it goin'?"

Griff and his gang slowly approached the teen with menacing looks. Doc kept a careful watch on the scene. "McFly!"

"Yeah?"

"McFly!!"

"What?" Poor 'Marty' seemed to be growing more frightened by the second.

Griff pointed downward. "Your shoe's unvelked." When 'Marty' looked down to check it out, the bully promptly slugged him. The force of the blow spun the kid completely around. He landed with a moan on the counter. The gang behind Griff laughed uproariously. When Griff yanked 'Marty' back to face him, the kid was also chuckling pathetically. "Heh heh, good one."

Doc started to get up, starting to see red, but the women 'Marty' had been admiring earlier stopped him. "Don't," she said, looking nervous. "That McFly can never get it straight. And trust me, you don't want Griff mad at ya. Especially not when you're an Windows 3.1 like yourself."

Doc gave her an odd look, but sat down again, eyes still fixed on the scene. Griff was getting down to business. "So, McFly, have you made a decision about tonight's - opportunity?"

"_Say no, kid,_" Doc thought, shaking his head. "_This kid's a Tannen, and that's just begging for trouble. Say no._"

"I dunno, Griff," 'Marty' whined. Yup - definitely had George's personality. "It seems kinda dangerous and all, you know."

"_Only C+, but still a no,_" Doc thought worriedly. "_I should say something._" He opened his mouth, but the woman shushed him, shaking her head.

A female gang member, with a red tattoo on her eye and sharp, nail-extending rings, made her way up to 'Marty'. "What's wrong, McFly?" she purred, running a sharp edge along his face. 'Marty' gulped. "You got no _scroat_?!" She nearly jammed her nails into his nether region. As it was, he was thrown back against the counter. Doc winced as McFly let out a cry.

Griff pulled 'Marty' back once again. "So what's it gonna be, McFly? Are you in - or out?"

"I dunno," 'Marty' sniveled. "I think I should discuss it with my father."

"YOUR FATHER?!" the whole gang yelled as one. "Your father is the biggest loser in Hill Valley! Wrong answer, McFly!" Griff picked up 'Marty' bodily and tossed him behind the counter. The teen smacked into the TVs before collapsing into a lump.

Doc lost his temper. "_That does it!_" He got to his feet, shaking with rage. The woman tried to stop him again, but saw his eyes and left him alone.

Griff didn't notice him at first. He pointed a fat finger at the 2 cyclists who had paused to watch the scene. "Keep pedaling, you two!" he ordered, and they promptly obeyed. He looked back at his gang. "What a low bandwidth," he mocked, while they nodded vigorously. "Everybody knows his dad is the most low-res lo-bo in the town. In the state!" He reached over the counter to pull McFly back up.

Only to be stopped by Doc's hand. He looked up into the scientist's scowling face. "Leave him alone."

Griff just laughed. "Who are you, bojo? His back-up disk?"

Doc didn't even wonder about the slang. "_Leave him alone._ Anyone who looks like Biff Tannen is a _horrible_ genetic mutation. And apparently you have the brains to match."

Griff's face darkened. "Lay off my Gramps," he growled. "At least he wasn't a loser like Marty McFly Senior! That bojo is the worst loser in the state."

"Marty's not a loser," Doc growled back. This was met with a howl of laughter from the entire gang. Doc lost all self-control. Marty was his best friend, and the scientist owed it to him to protect his good name. Enraged, he took a wild swing at Griff's head.

Griff caught his clenched fist and forced it down painfully. "_All right, punching isn't the best option,_" Doc decided, gritting his teeth. His arm felt like it was going to break. He looked for another line of attack.

He found one. It was playing dirty, but Doc didn't give a shit. He kicked Griff right in the groin. The bully went the color of cooked cod and fell over. His gang advanced towards Doc, who trained his 'death stare' on them. A few minutes of that, and they decided to help their fallen leader outside instead.

As he watched them drag Griff off, Doc started to feel ashamed. He wasn't one to overreact like that, but seeing that bully beat up on Marty's kid. . . . Coupled with leftover adrenalin from his encounter with the Libyans, it had turned into an explosive combination. Ignoring the impressed stares from the other customers, he climbed over the counter to attend to the Marty clone.

The kid was completely out of it, Doc noted with no surprise. He gently sat him up, wondering how to revive him. It finally registered in his head that Griff had called his Marty "Marty McFly Senior". So that meant that the teen before him was - "Junior," he whispered. He gently patted Marty Junior's face. "Junior. . . . Marty Junior, wake up."

Marty Junior came to with a moan. "Okay, Griff, I'll do it," he mumbled.

"Griff's gone, Junior. I made him go away."

Marty Junior's eyes opened slowly. He blinked, then looked at Doc fuzzily. "You're the guy from the counter. . . ."

"Don't you recognize me, Marty Junior? Your father's friend?" Doc prompted, still confused by that.

Marty Junior shook his head slowly. "You look sorta familiar, but you can't be the same guy."

Doc decided not to press the issue. Junior _had_ sustained a rather nasty blow to the head. He helped the teen back over to the right side of the counter, staying with him until he looked a bit more steady. "Thanks, but I think I'm okay," Marty Junior said, rubbing his head. Doc still kept a watch on him as he finished his lunch. He did seem to be recovering quickly, but did that mean he was used to being thrown around by Griff?

He finished his lunch and waved Arnie back over. "How much?" he asked, pulling out a wad of bills.

Arnie looked puzzled. "Standard SkyNet procedure is to use your thumb," he explained, looking at a pad set into the counter.

Doc had heard this many times before, and simply employed his standard excuse by this point. "Bad credit rating. I have to pay cash."

Arnie accepted this. "The total is $154 and 32 cents. Please insert the bills and coins into the appropriate slots."

Doc was rather pleased. This lunch was one of the cheaper things he had bought so far. He had expected it to be horribly expensive, like the rest of his things. It had cost him several thousand dollars to outfit himself for the future. Hoping his hover conversion wouldn't be too expensive, he feed the bills and coins into the machine. The payment machine beeped. "Please deposit $10 more as a handling charge." 

"_That's more normal,_" Doc thought, giving it another bill. He dropped the empty dishes on Arnie's tray. "Thank you. Return soon or be terminated." The vidwaiter rolled off. Doc made a final check on Marty Junior, then headed back out onto the streets of Hill Valley. It suddenly hit him how tired he was. He hadn't been getting much sleep lately, what with all his excitement over the time machine. "_Maybe I should find a motel and refresh myself. . . ._"

His eyes found the RevitaClinic. He wasn't sure what to make of it yet. It looked like a combination hospital/trendy health spa. Still, he _was_ getting on years. What could it hurt to take a poke around? Maybe they offered something where he could catch a quick nap. And better yet, according to the electronic banner under their name, they were having a special: "First Time Customers 50% Discount". "_What the hell,_" he figured and went in.

The inside of the clinic seemed built for comfort. Pleasant, soothing colors decorated the walls and floor. Soft padded benches lined the walls, a few people relaxing on them. Doc somehow forced his eyes away. The room he was in was circular in design, with a desk right in the center. The scientist wasn't too surprised to see a few CGIs manning the desks as well as 2 humans. He walked up and coughed gently to get someone's attention.

A man with a goatee noticed him. "Hey, welcome to RevitaClinic," he said, leaning on the desk. "How are you today, sir?"

"Very tired," Doc admitted. "I'm a first-time customer, so I'd like to take advantage of your offer."

"Sure, that's why we have it. Do you want a full treatment or specialized attention? The full treatment's best the first time."

"Then I'll take that." He pulled out his cash. "How much?"

"With the discount and the handling surcharge. . . ." The clerk pulled out a mini-computer. "$10,000 even. Bills in that slot."

Doc slid them in and did a few mental calculations. He still had about .79 million left. That should be enough for the hover conversion. "Do I have to wait for anyone?"

The clerk checked. "No, we have someone free in the BC room. First door on your left, Mr.-?"

"Dr. Michael Lloyd. Visiting Hill Valley for the first time."

"Ah. Well, enjoy your refresher, Dr. Lloyd. I certainly did."

Doc paused as he headed for the door. "Excuse me for saying this, but you don't really need to have one. You look very good."

"Especially for 50," the guy grinned. Doc's eyes bulged. He had guessed the clerk at 35, tops! "Have fun!" Doc looked at him a minute longer, then nodded and headed through the door.

A doctor and 2 nurses were there, chatting. They broke off as Doc entered. "Oh, hello. Are you here for a complete?" Doc nodded as he heard a beeper go off in the doctor's pocket. "Just a moment. Oh, you must be Dr. Lloyd. I'm Dr. Richards, and this is Tyna and Michelle." The 2 nurses smiled. "I see this is your first time at one of these places. Let me assure you there is nothing to worry about from this procedure. We're fully trained professionals. Now, if you would take off your coat, shirt, and pants and lie down on this table. . . ."

Doc followed his instructions, looking around at the strange machines on either side. "What exactly does this procedure entail?" he asked, lying down. The metal wasn't cold, thankfully.

"Freshening your blood, removing wrinkles, replacing worn out organs, that sort of thing," Tyna said, pricking his left arm with a needle. It beeped and displayed something on a readout. "Type AB+, huh? We don't get many of those. Don't worry, we've got plenty of it fresh." She pressed a button on both machines, and they began to hum softly.

Doc started to get nervous. "Er - what did you mean by that comment, Tyna?"

"This _is_ your first time. We're exchanging your old blood for some newer stuff." Doc went pale, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into. "Don't worry, it's perfectly safe. We've done it thousands of times. And all the bloods been strengthened immunity-wise, so there's no danger from infection." Before Doc could protest, she had inserted the tubes into his arms.

Michelle came around his head, holding a headband with wires and lights on it. She gently fitted it over his forehead. "Now what's this for?"

"To ensure you're out for the entire operation. It also suppresses bad dreams. If you get too agitated, it'll blank you out for a little bit."

"Ah." "_Interesting. I might want to check this technology out in case I ever want to work on my mind-reader again._"

After ensuring everything was set up correctly, Dr. Richards produced a sleep-inducer from his pocket. Doc couldn't help but smile. "I just bought one of those. Now I get to see first-hand how it works."

Dr. Richards chuckled. "Pleasant dreams, Dr. Lloyd," he said, activating it. 2 prongs flipped out from the main body and strobed a light pattern into Doc's eyes. The scientist's mind went blank. Moments later, he was sound asleep.


	4. Short Filler

Chapter 4

Wednesday, October 21st

4: 53 P. M.

Doc groggily blinked open his eyes. For a moment, he had absolutely no idea where he was. Then memory returned, and he recalled he was in the future. He tried to remember more, but it felt like something was shutting his brain down. "Dr. Richards?" he called, finding a name.

The young Asian appeared on the scene. "Good to see you're awake," he said, sliding off the headband. Immediately Doc's mind felt clearer. "You look much better than you did when you first came in. Although, frankly, you didn't look too bad then, either. You must take good care of yourself."

Doc reached up and felt his face. The skin felt younger, softer and smoother. Many of his smaller wrinkles were gone. Even his hair felt silkier. "I still look like myself, right?" he asked, a little worried. He didn't want to go home looking like a total stranger.

Dr. Richards laughed. "Don't worry, you do." He handed Doc a mirror to prove his point. The scientist was extremely pleased to see he looked more like himself from 1955, down to a faint blond tinge to his hair. _Marty's going to get quite a shock,_ he thought with a chuckle.

He examined the rest of his body as the mechanical coat hanger with his clothes rolled in. Everything seemed healthier and younger. Gone were the first traces of arthritis in his limbs and his slowly weakening eyesight. He felt completely revitalized, like his internal clock had been turned back 30 years, if not more!

One thing, though, seemed a bit out of place. There was a thin red line running across his abdomen. "What's this?" he asked, gingerly touching it.

"Your spleen and colon were pretty worn out, so we replaced them," Dr. Richards explained. "That line should fade in a few weeks."

"No stitches?"

The doctor gave him a strange look. "We use medical glue now," he said. "Much safer than stitches."

"Sorry, I'm thinking in terms of the past," Doc apologized, wondering if he had any amazement left in him. "You may definitely consider me a return customer."

"Glad to hear it. Thanks for using our services."

"Anytime." Doc looked back into the mirror, grinning. "My friends are going to be very surprised. They'd never think I'd do anything like this for myself."

"If you want to give them a _real_ shock, you could wear a mask," Dr. Richards suggested mischievously as Doc dressed. "We mapped your old face into the computer. It wouldn't take long to make one."

"Go right ahead," Doc said. "What's the cost?"

"Oh, no charge. The option comes standard in this form of treatment. Hang on a moment, I'll make it for you." He left, leaving Doc to think. At first, the scientist simply admired his new look. _I wonder what Marty's reaction will be. Whatever it is, I'm sure it will be fun to watch!_

The thought abruptly reminded him of Marty Junior. The very George-like demeanor the teen had had worried him. He didn't think Marty would let his own flesh and blood be bullied by Tannens. Had something happened to his family? To him?

And why hadn't Marty Junior recognized him? Come to think of it, no one recognized him here in the future. Not one person had come up to him and known him for Dr. Emmett Brown. There was the chance that he was dead by now, but even the older members of the community didn't seem to realize it was him. And they, of all people, should remember his reputation. It was like he has just vanished off the face of the earth one day.

"_Which I did,_" Doc realized, adjusting his pants. _I used my time machine to skip over approximately 30 years of time. Am I seeing a world bereft of my influence in the space-time continuum? It would explain a lot about my successful use of the alias._

But it didn't quite explain Marty Junior's not knowing who he was. Doc had been ready to blame the bump on the head, but things seemed more complicated now. _This is intriguing. I should pay a visit to the McFly household and see how things turned out for my best friend. I promised to look him up anyway. It will be interesting to later contrast this future to the one I arrive at normally._

Dr. Richards returned with a small package. "Just press this onto your face when you're ready. It's a very durable plastic, so you can wear it safely for a few days and even get it wet. After that, it'll start to look too unreal."

"I don't plan to wear it that long. Allergic to synthetics," Doc shrugged, taking the package. "If I wear them for too long, I get a rash."

"Actually, Dr. Lloyd, your blood change most probably fixed that for you. It's a new immune system, after all. If not, you can always come back and have us look at it.'

Yes, there was some amazement left. Doc could have jumped for joy. His allergies to various things had been the bane of his life. To think they might be gone! "Definitely a repeat customer," he repeated from before, shaking the doctor's hand joyfully.

"That's our goal for every customer, Dr. Lloyd. Have fun with your new look."

"I certainly will." He exited, making sure to grin at the clerk. He grinned back and nodded, understanding immediately. _Ah, the pleasures of a time machine,_ Doc thought, feeling better than he had in weeks.

That reminded him -- his DeLorean should be ready by now. Whistling happily, he walked over to the garage and asked the guy if his car was ready. "Should be. Just go up the -- hey, you look great! Just visited the RevitaClinic, huh? That place is a fountain of youth. Anyway, it should be waiting for you in the flying arena. Go up to the third level and ask for it."

Doc nodded his thanks and headed up. A mechanic noticed him. "Oh, hello. I see you caught a refresher, you look good. 30 years younger. Your car's all set. You've certainly got a lot of funny-looking junk in that DeLorean. It degrades the value, you know."

"I don't think about it's value in monetary terms, but rather in experimental terms. Those inventions could change life as we know it. You didn't disturb anything, did you?"

"No, we left all of it alone, except for that chamber in the back. It looked like you had built a nuclear power plant back there."

Doc shrugged, looking around for the flying arena. "My experiments need a lot of power," he said vaguely. "Where can I find the car?" The mechanic jerked his thumb over to a door. "Thanks." Doc went through the door to see a large open area, his car waiting patiently in the middle. He went up and inspected it. The mechanic had been right, the time machine components hadn't been touched. The car looked basically the same, except for the large Mr. Fusion set right above the old plutonium chamber. He tapped it, still wishing he had been willing to pay for the smaller model.

The mechanic had followed him in, wiping his hands clean on a cloth. "Ready for your first flying lesson?"

"Of course." He got into the passenger's seat as the mechanic entered the driver's side. "What do I do first?"

"Well, most of it is just like driving a normal street car. This switch--" he pointed to a switch on the dashboard, next to the steering wheel "--converts her to hover mode. You pull back on the wheel to ascend, and lean into it to descend. The rest is just normal driving stuff. Ready to try?"

"It's that simple?" Doc asked as they traded places.

"Mostly intuitive," the mechanic shrugged. "Go ahead, give it a whirl."

Doc flipped the switch and marveled as the wheels rotated to become hover thrusters. He picked up the basics in the training arena quite easily, and soon felt ready to try it on the real streets. The mechanic totaled up the sale and handed Doc a pair of solid-gray glasses. "What are these for?" the scientist asked, trying them on.

"Just like TV glasses. You use them to drive." The mechanic totaled up the sale as Doc examined the world through the glasses. "The total comes to $39,999. 95"

Doc gulped as he monitored the world. That was pretty expensive. Good thing his 80s money had fetched so much! It was probably a good thing he _hadn't_ sprung for that smaller Mr. Fusion now. He handed over the money, grumbling as he did so, "Everything's so damn expensive."

"Yeah, tell me about it," the mechanic agreed. "Inflation is going through the roof. I was born in 1985, and I remember that even during my childhood, a dollar had _some_ worth. Now--" he snorted. "Well, I hope you're satisfied with the car."

"Very much. Whenever I need a tune-up, I promise to come here."

"Kinda hard to go anyplace else, we're the only shop in Hill Valley," he grinned. Doc couldn't help but smile back as he got into his car. He spent a few more minutes practicing with the glasses, then took to actual skies. It was very enjoyable, he found. He had always wanted to fly on his own. This was as close to it as you could get. He happily experimented with all he could do for a while, then landed in an alleyway. Away from prying eyes, he re-set up the time machine components, rewiring the Mr. Fusion into the flux capacitor. After he had satisfied himself with the quality of his work, he sat down to think.

Marty McFly. That had to be next on the list. It would be a little surreal, yes, but he had to see what was going on with him and his family. He took the car back out onto the streets and started searching for a phone booth. He found one fairly close to the Café 80s. He went inside, but couldn't find a phone book. Or, for that matter, a phone.

"Hello?" a voice said behind him for not the first time that day. Doc turned to see a flat video screen on the wall, the image of a woman on it. But this woman was obviously the real deal, and was wearing a headset somewhat similar to that of a telephone operator's. _Ah, video-telecommunications. That's not so surprising._ "Would you like to make a call, sir?"

"Actually, I would like some information. Could you give me the address of Marty McFly Senior? And any personal stats you may have available, if possible?"

The woman's image disappeared, to be replaced by a blue screen. White lines of type appeared, which she read off. "Martin Seamus McFly Senior, married to Jennifer Jane Parker McFly. Age 47, two children: Martin Seamus McFly Junior and Marlene Jennifer McFly, fraternal twins. Address:3793 Oakhurst Street, Hilldale. Phone number: 555-4956. If you would like to call this address, please deposit $10 for the first ten minutes."

"No, thanks. I simply wanted the information. Thank you.'

"You're welcome. Have a nice day." Doc left the booth, repeating the address to himself a few times to fix it in his memory. Then he got in his car and headed for the ramp to the Skyway. _Marty, I certainly hope you're all right_.

Wednesday, October 21st

7: 40 P. M.

Doc stared as he landed right beside the "Hilldale" sign. Back in 1985, the housing development had just been built, and was considered the "hip" place to live. Now, though, time had taken a severe toll on the neighborhood, turning it seedy. There was litter everywhere, as well as numerous potholes. The houses next to the luminescent fence all needed painting and landscaping. Graffiti was splattered over every blank space, even the sign. In the distance, Doc thought he could hear the shouts of drunken revelers. Hilldale had certainly changed.

Pushing down the worry he was feeling, he locked the DeLorean securely and used the remote he had brought with him to hide it. He certainly didn't need it stolen by joyriders, or anyone else. He began looking for the address as he walked down the street. It wasn't too far from where he had parked, Doc was pleased to see. Like all the other houses, the paint was peeling and the yard was a disgrace. Despite all of that, though, the place looked friendly. Very slightly heartened, Doc went up to the door.

Only to find the doorknob missing. He wasn't startled by this point, since he had noticed this feature was absent on most future doors. He simply looked around for the device to open it. Spotting a plate, he realized it was it was probably just like paying for his food or his clothes. You pressed your thumb to the plate and the door opened. _We're certainly into privacy in this decade. Almost everything requires fingerprint activation._ On the off chance his theory was wrong and he was still around in this future, he tried the plate. It scanned his thumb print, then told him, "Access denied. Please knock for access."

Doc hesitated. _Should I or shouldn't I? I did promise I would look Marty up. But what if someone else is at home and comes to the door? If they don't recognize me, I probably won't be allowed inside. And if they do, they're going to wonder how I got here, presuming I'm dead or missing. I don't want to just leave, though. I suppose I should knock and see what happens before giving up. _He knocked twice and waited.

He heard a female voice ask, "Think that's Mom?" before the door opened. As it did, though, he gasped in astonishment. The person before him was clearly a girl, but she was the spitting image of Marty! The only real difference Doc could see besides her gender was her much-lighter hair, almost honey in color. _Great Scott, what a strange combination of genes in the McFly family! I almost feel sorry for poor Jennifer. It appears Marty had almost all of the dominant genes in the family. Although that hair looks more like some sort of genetic aberration, considering they would both have the allele for dark hair. Either that or it's from his uncle Joey._

The girl looked at Doc a little nervously. "Can I help you, sir?" she asked, keeping the door half-closed.

Doc was tempted to tell her the truth, but instead made up a story. It was best not to risk it if Marty had never told his children about time travel. "Is this the residence of Marty McFly?"

The girl nodded cautiously. "I'm -- here to discuss some rather urgent matters with him. Is he home?"

"Depends on which one you want. Marty J's home. Are you from the school? He said that his after-lunch class was cancelled."

"No, I'm looking for the senior Marty. It's a matter concerning something that happened a while ago. He was directly involved in an experiment back then, and I need to talk to him about it. I imagine it's had quite an effect on his life today. May I come in and wait for him?"

The girl shook her head. "Dad doesn't like strangers in the house. We've been robbed before. You'll have to come back later and tell it to Dad yourself. I don't know what the hell--" Doc started a little from her rudeness "--you're talking about."

Doc blinked at her mention being robbed, then remembered the state to which Hilldale had fallen. "I can understand that," he nodded. "Goodbye then. I'll call back later and talk to Marty personally."

"Bye." The girl shut the door and went upstairs, judging from the sound of her footsteps. However, Doc wasn't about to give up, or leave just this second. He had promised to check up on Marty, and his current living conditions had made him all the more determined to follow up on that promise to any extent he could. Thinking hard, he inadvertently leaned against the door.

And felt it give.


	5. A Disturbing Future

Chapter 5 

Wednesday, October 21st

7: 43 P. M.

Startled, Doc stepped back. The door remained open. _Marty's daughter -- did that woman say her name was Marlene? -- must not have closed it properly,_ he realized. He waited for the door to shut by itself, but it remained stubbornly open. _Maybe it's broken. I wouldn't be surprised._

It occurred to him that this was a perfect opportunity to sneak in and take a look around. For a moment, he chastised himself. He had a lot of nerve to think he could just invade someone's privacy like that! But the curious, concerned part of him argued that he had an obligation. Marty had asked him to check up on his future, and frankly he wanted to make sure all was well. Besides, just leaving the door open like that could be an invitation to less savory individuals. . . .

_For someone with the noblest intentions for humanity, you're quite prone to criminal activity,_ Doc scolded himself as he slipped in silently. He pushed the door closed behind him, looking to the stairs to make sure no one was coming down. A slight click told him the door was now shut properly. After a quick double-check of the stairwell, he felt free to examine the room.

That room, as he saw it, was very shabby. The wallpaper was peeling in spots, and almost every piece of furniture was patched up or dented. Doc doubted any of it was post-2000. The windows were streaked and spotted, and the shades covering them were very worn out. Doc did a double take as he glanced at one. It appeared to be showing a spectacular view of a garden estate, with manicured lawns and a gazebo. On closer inspection, he could see static on the bottom. A voice informed him abruptly, "Showing beautiful views 24 hours a day, you're tuned to the Scenery Channel."

In the adjoining room, or more accurately the second half of the room, a large, flat screen -- a TV/phone, no doubt -- and a fax machine were built into the wall. Some cheap furnishings were scattered here and there, but what caught Doc's eye was the bookcase back in the better-lit section. He moved over and examined the shelves. They contained a number of small books, most by George McFly. Picking one up, he saw it was labeled "vidbook." He opened it to see a video screen and a pad of some sort. He pressed the pad experimentally, but it didn't do anything. "Play?" he suggested to it.

It immediately responded, the video screen displaying a movie while a narrator read out an introduction. Doc hastily turned it back off and replaced it with its fellows. As he examined the other shelves, he saw that one shelf seemed to be dedicated to personal vidbooks. _I suppose those might work like video cameras back in 1985._ He read off some of the labels:

50TH ANNIVERSARY, GEORGE AND LORRAINE

FAMILY VACATIONS, 2005-2010

FAMILY VACATIONS, 2000-2005

MARTY JR. AND MARLENE: VOL. 1

MARTY JR. AND MARLENE: VOL. 2

DOC AND MARTY: 1986 TRANSFER

Doc had to smile at that one.

He turned his attention to the pictures that lined the top. He quickly recognized the one of himself and Marty in front of the amplifier. There were also quite a few of the kids at different ages. But the one that attracted him the most was on the corner of the bookcase. He picked it up and looked at it. It was Marty and Jennifer's wedding photo, but it was as far from what Doc had expected as possible. Marty was wearing a black shirt with a tux front printed on it, and Jennifer had a veil but just a regular short dress. They were standing with two seedy-looking people in front of a church-like building. Stunned, Doc read the name. "The Chapel O'Love? That's in Las Vegas!" he exclaimed, for a moment forgetting caution. "They must have eloped. Great Scott, Marty, what possessed you to run off and get married in Vegas?!"

Just then, the doorbell rang, startling Doc out of his introspection. It unceremoniously dawned on him he was standing out in the open and had no exit out of the house! Dropping the picture, he started looking for a place to hide. Seeing a door with a handle in the darker section of the room, he yanked the door open to find a bathroom. Should he?

He could see Marlene's feet as she came downstairs. It appeared he had no choice. He ducked inside and prayed the visitors didn't have full bladders. 

He cracked the door open a bit as the front door whooshed open. He could see an elderly woman just in his line of sight. "Grandma Lorraine!" Marlene exclaimed happily.

"Sweetheart!" Lorraine replied. They kissed each other on the cheek. Doc noted that Marty's mother looked pretty good for her age. _She's probably had a few RevitaClinc visits._

Marlene stepped aside to let her grandmother in, then noticed someone else out of Doc's line of vision. "Grandpa! You threw your back out _again_?!"

"How's Granddad's little pumpkin?" George's raspy voice asked from the doorway,

"How you'd do that? How'd he do that?" Marlene asked both George and Lorraine as he floated in. Doc's eyes widened as he saw George strapped in _upside-down_ to a hovering machine. _How on earth that could help George's back is beyond me, but then I have no medical training. The doctors of the future must know what they're doing. Hopefully._

"Out on the golf course," George answered, pushing back his cowlick. He hovered down slightly and picked something up off the floor. Doc nearly panicked when he saw it was the dropped wedding photo, but the author just put it back on the shelf. The scientist noted with a smile that he put it back upside-down.

Lorraine, holding up a little silver bag, smiled sweetly at Marlene. Doc could just make out the words Pizza Hut on the side. "Are your folks home? I brought dinner for everyone!"

Doc blinked. _Dinner? That doesn't contain enough for one person, let alone six people. Unless the food has had its volume reduced somehow._ Marlene further confused him by saying, "Oh, who's going to eat all that?"

"Oh, I will!" volunteered George eagerly.

Lorraine noticed the static-filled shade. "Oh, don't tell me this thing is _still_ broken." She retrieved a remote control from the coffee table and clicked it a few times. The scene changed to a tropical isle, then to the skyline of New York, then to a forest. Every location had some sort of problem, mostly with the static and the vertical hold. Disgusted, Lorraine finally shut it off. "We really should buy you a new one."

Marlene shrugged. "You know Dad, he'd get pissquanced. He's always complaining about how little money he makes."

"Didn't he say recently he was going to get it fixed?" George wondered.

"The repairman was a real jerk," Marlene muttered. "After he said--" she paused, as if considering whether or not to repeat what he had said. "Well, it was the usual about him and them. Dad got furious and kicked him out. Now we can't get _anybody_ to fix it."

Lorraine rolled up the shade/screen. "Look how worn out this is." The real view outside was much less pleasant, revealing a paint-chipped house and a ton of trash. "But I can't blame your father for getting mad at that. If the repairman had called him 'chicken,' though. . . ."

Marlene gave an exaggerated sigh. "Grandma, I've heard the story a million times! Give it a rest already!"

_Ignore her, Lorraine. Tell it again._ Doc thought, suddenly very interested. He knew that Marty's Achilles heel was being called "chicken." No matter what the dare or demand, he'd do it if you called him "chicken." He had explained to Doc once that it was a matter of pride. Being called that name made him feel like a coward, like someone totally opposite from his confident father. Doc had tried to tell him that his self-esteem shouldn't depend on what others thought of him, but the teen didn't understand. At least he didn't go crazy when someone called him the name. But now, in the future, had his reaction gotten worse?

"I'm sorry, Marlene. I just don't want you to end up in the same mess. After all, getting all upset whenever he was called 'chicken' sent his whole life down the tubes. He has no common sense."

"Grandma, he's your son," Marlene protested. "You shouldn't be virusing him."

"I'm not, I feel bad for him. I don't want his children to suffer his fate." She shook her head as Marlene rolled her eyes. "Never let yourself be goaded into doing something. When your father tried to prove he wasn't chicken--"

"He met his best friend?" Marlene grinned.

"Marlie, honey, that was different. Marty used at least the slightest bit of common sense there. But in the car accident, he didn't use any. He didn't even think before he decided to drag race that car. And that's how he crashed into the Rolls Royce."

"You're garbed on that, Grandma. Dad always told me the Rolls Royce crashed into him," Marlene said defensively.

"The woman in the Rolls wasn't so good a driver, but it was Marty who pulled in front of him and who was illegally street racing," George pointed out.

Lorraine shook her head again. "That accident changed your father's entire life. He broke his hand, Jennifer broke her leg, the driver sued him and pressed charges. . . . Marty's life was completely ruined. He got too self-pityish. He just gave up on life." She wagged her finger in Marlene's face. "The real reason your mother married him was because she felt sorry for him. Jennifer deserved better."

"Mom really loves Dad," Marlene snapped.

"Lorraine, that is mean," George agreed, floating over.

"I guess it is," Lorraine conceded. "But she gets tranqued every night. Poor girl. October 27th, 1985 turned their lives 180°. And then, 2 years later. . . ." Her face grew very sad.

"Grandma, don't," Marlene said, frowning. "That story always makes me cry."

"All right. It makes me cry too, to tell the truth." There was a brief silence, then Lorraine broached a new subject. "Where's your brother?"

"Still upstairs, doin' homework. He told me he went to the Cafe 80s for lunch 'cause one of his classes after was free, and Griff got on his case again."

"Dear me, is he still bullying you two?"

"Mostly Marty J right now. It's Spike who really digs into me. Just 'cause she has a boyfriend and I don't." Marlene seemed depressed at that admission. Lorraine patted her on the shoulder in a comforting way.

"You'll find one soon enough, honey." Smiling at George, she added, "Who knows, you may make an adventure out of it. Like we did."

Footsteps from above alerted Doc to the fact that Marty Junior was on his way down. "Finally finished that junk. Hey Grandma, hey Grandpa."

"How are you, Junior?" George asked with a grin.

"I really gotta go," Marty Junior admitted. Doc felt his heart skip a beat as the teen turned toward the bathroom. _Oh, shit,_ he thought, starting to panic. Where could he go now!?

He spotted a second door behind him and darted through. It led to the kitchen -- where the other three were heading! Terrified, he looked for a place to hide. Spotting a small closet just a few steps away, he yanked it open to find it occupied by a small robotic vacuum cleaner. Doc just managed to squeeze himself in and closed the door as far as it would go.

No one noticed him, to his great relief. Lorraine and George chatted about seemingly unimportant things while Marlene began setting the table. Marty Junior joined them after five excruciating minutes, allowing Doc to slip unnoticed back into the bathroom. _Whew, that was close._

He heard the front door unlock. "Welcome home, Jennifer," the mechanical voice announced. Doc opened the door a crack and peeked out. It was Jennifer, all right, but she was so much older and grayer. Her once curly and bright hair had turned dull and limp. She had dark circles under her eyes and many deep wrinkles. Doc noted she walked with a slight limp. Right now, she was also weaving her way in the door.

Marty Junior and Lorraine came out to greet her. "Oh, honey, let me take those," Lorraine said, taking the two grocery bags Jennifer clutched.

"You don't have to do that, Lorraine," Jennifer replied, her words very slurred.

"It's okay, dear. I brought dinner anyway."

"How are ya, Ma?" Marty Junior asked calmly, standing by her side.

"Oh, I'm fine, Junior," Jennifer said, giving her son an exaggerated smile. Doc could hardly believe this was the same girl who, in 1985, eschewed alcohol because her mother had been killed by a drunk driver. Things had certainly changed. "How wash schoool?"

"Good, good." Lorraine brought the groceries into the kitchen while Jennifer and Marty Junior sat down in front of the TV. "Art off," Marty Junior commanded, spinning his chair from side to side. The rather garish painting on the screen vanished. "Okay, I want channels 18, 24, 109, 63, 87 and the Weather Channel." The screen lit up in six rectangular sections, each broadcasting a different show. Jennifer sobered up enough to see tomorrow's forecast. "More rain tomorrow," she reported to no one in particular.

The front door unlocked again, this time with the greeting, "Welcome home, Marty, lord of the manor, king of the castle." Doc shifted his attention as Marty came in with a loud, "Hey, I'm home, Dad's home!" His best friend looked just as bad as Jennifer. His face was a mass of wrinkles, and his hair was thinning fast. He was wearing a worn business suit with a pair of ties, each printed with one half of a sunburst design. _What happened to his music career? Whenever he asked me about it, my probability rates based on his talent and ambition gave him a good chance of getting into the business. It's possible he works at a studio, but I doubt it._

He drew back as Marty stopped perilously close to the door. "What the hell is this?" Marty muttered, adjusting something on the wall. "Lithium mode on," it announced to him. "That's better. Damn kids." He shook his head, then noticed Jennifer and Marty Junior. "Hey son," he greeted his boy, who was engrossed in his TV-watching. Doc wasn't sure how, as he was having trouble keeping track of what was on which station. "Watching a little TV for a change?"

Marty Junior didn't give his dad the time of day. Marty turned his attention to Jennifer. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, his raspy voice warm.

Jennifer gave him a drunken smile. "Hi, Marty," she replied just as warmly, leaning up to kiss him. She nearly overcompensated, but Marty held her up and kissed her gently. Doc was glad to see that, despite all that seemed to have happened to them, they still loved each other.

Marty smiled at Jennifer, then went to the kitchen. "Is that my Mom? Is that my Mom?" he asked, seeing Lorraine. He gave his mother a peck on the cheek. 

"Hello, dear," Lorraine said cheerfully. I brought dinner."

"Mom, you shouldn't have," Marty smiled. "Hey, princess," he called to Marlene, back to setting the table. She smiled at him. He turned to George. "Hey Dad, what did you do to your back? Are you okay?"

"Oh, I was on the golf course," George began.

"Dad, I told you to watch that back swing."

Lorraine shook her head with a frown. "No, a car hit him. It just fell out of the sky. He could've been killed!"

"And I was two under par!" George complained. Doc somehow repressed the urge to roll his eyes.

Lorraine smiled at her husband and then looked at Marty with motherly concern. "How was work, Marty?"

"Mom, I'm telling you, that big promotion is just around the corner. But right now, I'm starved! Let's eat!" He walked back out to retrieve Junior. "Time to eat."

Junior, his cap discarded and slumped in his chair, spun to look at his father. "Dad, I'm watching these programs," he whined.

"Young man, we eat at the table when your grandparents are here," Marty said sternly. He picked up a pair of blue glasses much like the ones Doc had used for driving and tossed them into Marty Junior's lap. "Take your damn glasses."

Junior got up and put the glasses on with an annoyed look on his face. "Dad, I can only watch two shows at once with these things."

Marty shook his head. "Yeah, you kids have it rough. When I was your age, if I wanted to watch two shows at once, I had to put two sets next to each other." Junior just shrugged and headed for the kitchen, leaving Marty to straighten the screen. "Art on," he said, restoring the painting, then turned to help Jennifer out of her seat. "How much did you have tonight, honey?"

"Only two bottles," Jennifer slurred.

"Of what?" Marty probed.

"Scotch. I brought home some too, for you tomorr--" Suddenly, she seemed to sober up the slightest bit. "Oh, Marty, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mention it."

"It's all right, Jennifer," Marty said, looking a little hurt. "What happened shouldn't be completely forbidden to talk about around this household. And besides, I think I will need a belt tomorrow." He walked her into the kitchen.

Doc frowned as he watched them go. _Should I take this chance and make my escape? I've really seen all I needed to see. And besides, there seems to be some hushed discussion of my own fate in this household. No man should know too much about his future, after all._

_But I don't want to go just yet. I've already seen so much of Marty's life. Is it possible that it is completely ruined in this form of the time-line? And besides, my disappearance is apparently a sore point with my best friend. As I suppose it would be with any sane person who lost a friend. Damn curiosity. Good thing I'm not a cat._ Giving in to his urge, he moved over to the kitchen door.

Most of the family was seated around the table. Lorraine was bustling around, getting things ready. She tore open the tiny bag and removed an equally tiny pizza. "Hey, pizza! When it's done, can you just shove it in my mouth?" Marty Junior asked, following his statement with a very geeky laugh.

"Now don't you be a smart-@$$," Marty said sternly.

"Oh, great, the Atrocity Channel," Marty Junior replied. He had a little Marty in him at least.

Lorraine set the baby pizza on a tray and slid it into a strange-looking device. Doc pulled out his binoculars to get a better look. _Black and Decker Hydrator? Ah, the food must be freeze-dried to reduce volume!_

His hypothesis was confirmed a moment later as Lorraine instructed, "Hydrate level 4, please." The hydrator gurgled for a moment, then dinged. Lorraine pulled free a full-sized pizza. The sight of it made Doc's mouth water. When had he last eaten, anyway? Hours ago it must have been.

"Is it ready?" Marty Junior asked loudly. This time around Doc couldn't help but roll his eyes. The teen had waited a minute, tops.

"Here you go," Lorraine said, setting it on the table. Everybody promptly dug in.

"Boy oh boy, Mom, you sure can hydrate a pizza," Marty gently ribbed as he ate. "I'm sorry I missed that whole thing."

"Whoo-hoo! Yeah!" Marty Junior yelled, off in his own little world. Doc could see "54" displayed on one side of his blue video-glasses, "39" on the other. _I wonder what on earth he's watching. Probably two channels at once again._

Jennifer thoughtfully chewed her slice. She seemed to be slowly sobering. "How was work, Marty?"

"Same old, same old. But performance reviews are coming up, and I think I've got a good chance of climbing up the ladder," Marty said brightly.

Marty Junior noticed he had no drink. "Hey, can I have some tea? Please?"

"Pass the kelp tea," Marty told his daughter.

Marlene paused in her mysterious non-stop chatter. "Dad, I'm on the phone."

"You still have arms," Marty pointed out. Marlene sighed dramatically but pushed the kelp tea closer to her brother. "Yeah, family interrupting as usual," she told whomever she was talking to. "Now, what do you think of that kid in biology?"

Lorraine brought a slice of pizza over to George. "George, rotate your axis. Eating while you're inverted isn't good for your digestion."

"Okay, dear." George pressed a button on a remote he held and started turning. "Fore," he joked, laughing. His laugh was geeky too, a comforting reminder of 1985. Lorraine laughed along and kissed him.

"Oh, Marty, I forgot to ask. Whatever happened with your application to help out at R & D?" Lorraine wondered as she came back over.

Marty scowled at his plate. "They rejected it. I didn't have the right _qualifications,_" he said bitterly. Jennifer patted his arm in a comforting way.

"Ah, pitcher's got a bionic arm," Marty Junior said, oblivious to what was around him.

"Yeah, he's cute. Think he's interested in me too," Marlene giggled, similarly so. Her smile abruptly disappeared as both kids' glasses began to ring, flashing the word "PHONE" in red on each pair. "Dad, telephone," Marty Junior said in a bored voice.

"Yeah, Dad, it's for you," Marlene agreed, looking a little annoyed that she had been interrupted so many times.

Marty cleared his throat. Doc could sense he was nervous about something. "I'll take it in the den," he said, going back into the TV room. Doc returned to his previous spot to see the art channel still on, only with "INCOMING CALL" superimposed over the painting. "I'm here."

The art was shunted to one corner as a person's face appeared. Doc didn't need to read the identification code at the bottom; the man was Needles! _There's something I thought wasn't statistically possible. Marty and Needles working together. _

Needles smiled at Marty, not looking all too different from their schooldays together._ You think he would have bothered with corrective dental surgery by now._

"Hey, the big M! How's it hangin', McFly?"

"Hey Needles," Marty greeted him, the nervousness still apparent in his manner.

Needles either didn't notice or didn't care. "So, McFly, you been thinking about our little opportunity?" he asked easily. "Everybody else is getting in on it."

"I don't know, Needles," Marty said, sounding exactly like his son had hours earlier. Doc's stomach twisted itself into a nervous knot.

"What are you so worried about? If this works, it'll solve all your financial problems!"

"And if it doesn't, I could get fired! It's _illegal_, Needles!" Marty burst out suddenly. "I mean--," his voice dropped, "--what if the Jitz is monitoring?"

"The Jitz will never find out!" Needles shoved Marty's concern aside. "This plan is foolproof."

"I still might make it into R & D," Marty muttered, still reluctant. Doc observed the scene closely, now understanding how Marty Junior had ended up the way he had. Hopefully, in this instance at least, the father would be smarter than the son. "I _do_ have some experience. I want to make sure everything's all set before I go along with this."

"They'll never accept you, McFly. Come on, just stick your card in the scanner." Marty turned away, thinking hard. "Unless you want everyone in the department to think you're -- chicken?"

It was fascinating, watching Marty's new reaction to the word. Back in 1985, Marty simply had the tendency to tense and show some temper. Now his entire body went stiff and his eyes filled with rage. He spun to face the screen. "Nobody calls me chicken, Needles, NOBODY!" he yelled. Doc was surprised nobody came out of the kitchen to see what was happening.

"Fine. Prove it," Needles grinned.

Marty hesitated for just an instant more. Then he walked over to the closet and retrieved his briefcase. Setting the briefcase on an ottoman, he hit a button on it. A scanner rose out of the top of the briefcase as he pulled a card from his pocket. "Here's my card, Needles." He swiped it through the scanner. "Scan it! I'm in!"

Doc slapped his hand over his eyes. _Oh, no. . . Marty, why did you let him get to you? Why did you commit an illegal act? Who am I to talk, though, really. But Marty, I thought you would have had more sense than that._

Needles kept smiling. His grin almost seemed -- wicked. "Thanks, McFly. See you at the plant tomorrow." He hung up. Marty closed up his briefcase with a sigh as the AT&T logo came on the TV.

Then it happened. A new man, this time Japanese, appeared on the screen, looking throughly pissed. "MCFLY!"

Both Doc and Marty jumped. Marty spun again, a terrified look on his face. "Fujitsu-san! Koneechewa!" he blurted, bowing. Doc realized that this had to be Marty's boss, the aforementioned "Jitz". His heart sank.

"McFly, I was monitoring that scan you just interfaced. YOU ARE TERMINATED!"

"Terminated? No! No, I can explain!" Marty begged. "It was Needles! He told me to do it!"

"And you cooperated!" Fujitsu seethed.

"No, I was setting him up, it was a sting," Marty babbled, desperate to save his job.

Fujitsu cut in quickly. "McFly, read my fax!" He pressed a button, and 2 large boldface words flashed on the screen:

YOU'RE FIRED!!!

"No, I can't be fired, I'm fired," Marty moaned. Fax machines all over the house sprang into action, printing out the words of doom. Even in the bathroom, a paper came out. Doc pulled it free and looked at it. It was basically just a repeat of the words on company paper - Cusco Industries, whatever that was.

Marty pulled his copy out of his briefcase, looked at it a second, then crumpled it against his forehead. "This is heavy. How am I going to tell Jennifer and the kids?"

"I suspect they already know," Fujitsu said none too gently. "Due to your out of date systems."

"Well, I can't afford to remove the faxes and covert to strict e-mail," Marty snapped. Then his tone became pleading. "Listen, at least fire Needles too. As a favor to me."

"I owe you no favors!" Fujitsu snarled. "You were just a cog in my machine! An easily replaceable part. And while we're on the subject, why on earth did you try to get into Research and Development?" His tone was vaguely provoking. Doc suspected he was doing this for his own amusement.

"It sounded like fun," Marty mumbled, turning away again.

"But you had no qualifications! Only some experience with that crackpot Dr. Brown!"

Marty's body snapped stiff for the second time that night. His eyes narrowed, turning icy. "What did you say about Doc?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"He was a crackpot! A lunatic! A poor excuse for a scientist if there ever was one!" Doc winced a little as the comments came. No matter how many variations of them he heard, they still hurt to a degree.

Marty turned to face the screen, obviously enraged. "Never -- speak -- that -- way -- about -- Doc," he growled, his voice deadly. "He was a genius. The smartest man ever to have lived. The man who supported me no matter what. And I won't have _anyone_ bad-mouthing him. Least of all you."

"He was insane," Fujitsu argued, looking a little less sure of himself.

"He was NOT INSANE!" Marty exploded. "Who are you to judge him?! You never knew him! Nobody knew him except me! You were all a bunch of animals, rejecting him just because he was different. But I knew him, and he was a genius! The best guy I ever was friends with! You know what? Take your job and shove it up yours."

Fujitsu just stared at him for a moment, then cut the connection. Marty glared at the screen of art, seething over the insults dealt to his best friend. Then his shoulders slumped, and Doc sensed that his mood had swung from extreme anger to extreme sadness. He looked at Marty worriedly. It was nice to know Marty was loyal to his memory, but there was a fine line between loyalty and obsession, one that Marty seemed straddling. It was like whatever had happened to him had had a profound effect on his friend. But could his disappearance or eventual death really affect him like this?

Marty turned from the screen and picked up an old blue guitar. He sat down with it and started playing, stretching the fingers of his right hand. What came out of the instrument was a _very_ lousy rendition of the song "Power of Love". Doc sighed. _All that talent wasted._

Suddenly Marty put the guitar aside and got up. He headed to the bookcase and pulled out a vidbook. Retrieving a coil sitting on a shelf nearby, he connected the large screen to the video book with the coil and opened the book up. "Play Chapter 1," Marty instructed it, then sat down as the images appeared on the screen.

Doc watched the movie with interest. AUG. 2, 1986 was clearly printed in the lower left corner, meaning this would be filmed not too far in his own future. The first few minutes only showed the McFly yard and house. Then the George of 1986 yelled, "I got it working again, Lorraine!" Lorraine's off-camera voice yelled back, "Now don't drop the camera again! I don't care _how_ confident you are that it won't break!" Doc barely suppressed his giggles.

The scene changed to his own house, filmed through the fence. George narrated as he opened the fence and went inside. "We're on the hunt today for one of the stranger creatures of suburbia -- the elusive Docis Brownus."

_Oh, brother,_ Doc thought, smiling. He told himself he should really try to ignore the video and look for a means of escape, but he couldn't take his eyes away. He was too caught up in what was happening. Or, more accurately from his standpoint, what _would_ happen. _You really are a hypocrite, aren't you?_

_Shut up,_ he told his conscience as the tape continued, now inside his house. It was a mess as usual, with experiments and fast food wrappers everywhere. "This is the nest of the local Docis Brownus. As you can see, the animal has strong packrat instincts, using all manner of objects to furnish its territory. It is also an inventive creature, using liquids and metals it finds in strange and unusual ways. Some scientists have contended that the acts by this creature could be deemed AHHH!"

The camera abruptly showed a very nice view of his floor. "Very funny, Doc!" George'86's voice came, sounding very upset. "Lorraine's going to kill me for dropping it again!"

"Don't worry, George, I think it's okay." The version of him circa 1986 picked up the recorder and looked at it. "It's still functioning. You're safe." He turned the camera to show a sopping wet George McFly. "Give a smile for the video recording unit!"

George'86 gave him a look. "Give me that!" he snapped, yanking the camera out of Doc'86's hands. He turned it to show Doc'86, smiling mischievously, attired in a t-shirt and a pair of cutoffs. "What was that for?"

"Doc and I were having a water fight," Marty'86's voice said behind him. George'86 turned to see his son in cutoffs and a t-shirt, too, and holding a water balloon. "We heard you come in and he decided to use his bucket on you instead of me. Thanks, Dad."

"Do me a favor and get him with the balloon." Marty'86 gladly did so, drenching Doc'86's shirt. The scientist yanked a water gun from his waistband and started squirting the teen. "I swear, every time you two get together, you act like little kids."

"It's summer, and I've never been too fond of acting mature in this season," Doc'86 smiled.

"That's what you said about winter too. You're not mature in _any_ season."

"I've never known you to act decidedly mature in summer yourself," Doc'86 said.

"I'm mature!" George'86 protested, sounding decidedly immature.

"What do you call that documentary you were just making, Dad?" Marty'86 asked, grinning.

"Well . . . More mature than you." The camera panned around the house. "Do you ever clean up this place, Doc?"

"Nah. It's my own special system of organization. One you 'normal people' wouldn't understand."

"Bet Marty would understand, considering he's over here practically every day."

Marty'86 gave Doc'86 a very quick friendly squeeze. "Hey, we're best buddies. What do you expect me to do, stay away from him?"

Doc became distracted from the film by a noise, one that was firmly mired in the present. He looked to see Marty with his face in his hands, weeping. "Doc. . . I'm so sorry. . . ."

Before Doc could wonder about the cryptic meaning of that statement, Lorraine came in, holding one of the faxes. "Marty, what's the meaning--"

She stopped as she saw the movie playing on the screen. "Marty," she said softly, disturbed. "Honey, you shouldn't be watching this. You know how these movies depress you."

"I can't help it. I miss him so much." Marty looked up at the Movie Doc again. "And it was all my fault he left. All my fault."

"Don't talk like that. It was never your fault."

"It was so! I wasn't there for him when he needed me most. And he knew it. Mom, his last words to me were 'I hate you.' And I don't blame him in the least for hating me."

Lorraine took Marty's arm. "He didn't hate you. He was just angry and confused." She turned off the vidbook and gently brought him to his feet. "Come on, finish your pizza and then we'll deal with this fax." She led Marty out of the room.

The scientist stared, all his thoughts about not knowing his own fate flying out the window. It was rare to see Marty crying. When he did, it usually meant he was hurting deeply. And the way Marty had been sobbing right then had touched Doc in a way nothing else could. _Something horrible must have happened to us to make him react like that at the sight of me,_ he realized. _Especially if my last words to him were "I hate you." Why on earth would I say that to Marty? What possibly could have happened to make me hate my best friend? The kid who saved my life, no less._ _I have to find out._

He thrust the fax he had grabbed from the machine into his pocket and started looking for an escape route before anyone else needed to go. He nearly laughed when he found it -- a window right behind his back. _How could I have missed that? Hopefully it doesn't have an alarm on it._ He cautiously pushed it up. Nothing happened, so he opened it all the way and crawled out. After closing it to the best of his ability from the outside, he started walking back to the DeLorean, pondering all of his newly-gained information. _Next stop -- the library. I need answers, and I need them now._


	6. An Even More Disturbing Future

Chapter 6

Wednesday, October 21st

8: 58 P. M.

After a short stop at a phone book to check the address with an operator, Doc arrived at the library. It had been cleaned up and now had a digital sign, but otherwise it didn't look too different. He went inside and asked the librarian for back copies of the _Hill Valley Telegraph_. Since George was a famous figure in Hill Valley, Doc had logically reasoned his son would get references in the local paper.

The librarian looked at him strangely as he phrased his request. "Our paper stuff is all kept locked up in the back. You've got to have special permission to get to it. All their back issues are on their web site, ya know?"

_Web site? What on earth is a web site? _"Well, can you direct me to their site?"

"Sure, grab a computer and knock yourself out." She went back to filing her nails. Doc looked at her helplessly, but she didn't offer him any more information. He located and sat down at a computer station, hoping he could figure out what he was supposed to do. All he could find of the computer, however, was a flat monitor -- no keyboard or mouse. He wondered briefly how he was supposed to operate it._ Well,_ _most of the things in Marty's house responded to voice commands. Maybe this is the same thing. _"Computer on," he said as a test. It promptly turned itself on. "Access the _Hill Valley Telegraph _web site, whatever that is."

The computer opened up a window on his screen, with a thick blue bar on top and what looked like a newspaper page, with interactive pictures and text. The blue bar contained the words, "Hill Valley Telegraph -- Microsoft Internet Explorer." _The Internet? I remember reading about that in 1985. I thought only the military and the National Science Foundation was interested in it._ _Apparently it becomes very popular with the general public sometime in the future. This "web site" must be a method of spreading information._ He glanced over it a moment, getting himself used to dealing with the site, then searched the name "Marty McFly." A list of articles came up containing his name. Doc skimmed through them. There was a list of people born in the 60s in which Marty was listed, a few George-themed articles that had mentioned the youngest McFly, and a letter to the editor he had once written. Doc opened it to find that it was a complaint about the food at the Burger King. _Didn't stop you from eating there, Marty,_ he thought with a slight smile.

Finally he found the article he had been searching for. "Author's Son Involved in Traffic Accident," Doc read aloud, noting the date was October 28th, 1985. He opened it up and read it. The gist of the article was that Marty had hit a Rolls Royce exiting Hilldale the previous day. He and Jennifer were in the hospital with minor injuries. The other driver, Patricia Halls, although uninjured, told police she fully intended to press charges and was also suing Marty for damages and reckless endangerment. Marty had owned up to the fact he had been racing another car, but insisted that the Rolls was partially at fault.

Doc shook his head sadly as he finished. _Marty, you foolish boy. It takes a traffic accident and a broken hand to alert you to your problem. I'm very tempted to have a talk with you when I get back. But dare I meddle in your fate? I don't want to make things worse._

He closed the article and continued his skimming. There were a few small follow-up articles about the ruling and Marty's punishment, things like that. Then another article caught his eye. "Mugging Leads To. . . ." Doc murmured. Not only was Marty's name next to it, so was his. Curious, he opened it up.

Mugging Leads To Inventor's Death

July 10th, 1988

Last night, local inventor Dr. Emmett L. Brown died in Hill Valley Hospital from knife wounds. Dr. Brown was rushed to the hospital after an encounter with a mugger turned bad. He told doctors that when the mugger had told him to surrender his wallet, he had refused. The mugger then proceeded to stab him multiple times. Doc stared at the type. _What the -- Why would I refuse a mugger my wallet? I care about my life far more than my money. _He continued reading, looking for Marty's involvement. Maybe he could shed some light on the situation. 

Martin McFly was contacted by this reporter for comments. "I feel horrible," he said. "This is all my fault. We had this huge fight right before it happened. He yelled at me that he hated me and wished we had never become friends. I yelled back that I wished I never had to see him again. Well, I guess I won't now."Doc closed his eyes and leaned back against the chair. _Okay, none of this is making sense. What would we fight about so severely that I would say I hated him? And how does this relate to the mugging? Now I feel like the worst person on earth. I have to find out more _somehow.

Doctors at Hill Valley Hospital were also contacted. "Dr. Brown was only conscious for a brief period. He told us that he refused the mugger because he was angry. Beyond that, we have no comment on the murder."

He looked for more, but couldn't find anything else about his death. Apparently no one had cared enough to follow up on it. Frustrated, he closed out the program and stood up. "Damn," he muttered to himself, thinking hard about all he had learned. _I feel like I have to warn Marty, to make sure that car accident never occurs and that I don't accidentally do myself in. But I don't want to possibly change the future into an even worse one for my best friend and me. But Marty McFly saved my life, and was willing to put the space-time continuum at risk to do it. Why shouldn't I return the favor? Come on, Emmett, make up your mind!_

Deep in thought, he exited the library, only to bump into a young woman coming in. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, smiling apologetically. "I didn't see you there -- Officer Reese! This is a surprise!"

Reese looked at Doc, her eyes wide. Her expression made Doc a little uneasy. "No way, it can't be," she muttered under her breath. "Dr. Emmett L. Brown?"

Uh-oh. She remembered him from this morning? This wasn't good. _Damn it, think, think. . . ._

Then the officer added in an even quieter voice, "Uncle Emmett?"

Doc stared. _Uncle Emmett? Can it be?_ "Jaime?"

"Oh my God, Uncle Emmett, is it really you?" Jaime Reese whispered. "But you -- you–"

"Died?" Doc finished shakily. "Jaime, I'm -- I'm stunned. I haven't seen you in a long while. You're all grown up. And working on the police force as well."

"Uncle Emmett. I don't care how the hell you're here, I'm just glad you are!" She gave him a big hug. "I've missed you. I didn't get to know you that well, but I still missed you. How did you get here? Was that death everyone made such a fuss about a ruse or something? Christ, you weren't buried alive, were you??"

"The truth would be too fantastic for you to believe. Oh, Jaime. . . . How are you? How's your mother and Emily?"

"I'm okay, I guess. Still unmarried, but not worrying about it. My best friend's in the force too. She's my partner. Mom's on a vacation with Dad to the Bahamas. Grandma died a while ago, though." Jaime felt his face, still somewhat shell-shocked. "You're really alive. . . ."

Doc couldn't help but smile. He got to see his grandniece infrequently back in 1985. Both her parents worked and it was rare that they could get to Hill Valley. As for Doc, he had once been to Los Angeles and had sworn never to set foot there again after being mugged twice in one night after getting lost in Compton. "Jaime, I'm very glad to see you, even if you did pull me over this morning. I'm glad that you're happy."

"Could be better, but could be worse," Jaime shrugged. "I've got a job I really love, my best friend by my side, and a nice apartment in the better section of town. Can't complain."

"Lot better than what happened to me," Doc muttered. He looked at Jaime curiously. "Do you know Marty McFly? I introduced you to him once, but that was over 30 years ago."

Jaime nodded, looking sad. "Yeah, I sometimes talk to him. Every so often Marty Junior or Marlene will get caught on some really minor charge and he'll have to bail them out. If he doesn't have the cash though, they have to spend a week in jail."

"That seems rather harsh," Doc said, surprised.

"You know that we started getting tougher with the punishments to cut down on repeat offenders. Practically every state's got the death penalty now for mass murderers. Personally, I'm sorta glad there's no more lawyers in the courts."

Doc remembered Griff's "opportunity" from the Café 80s. Now he was extra glad he had prevented Marty Junior from going along with their scheme. He had no idea what Marty would have done if his son had been jailed the night he lost his job. "I imagine there's a much lower crime rate then."

"Very. But you didn't want to hear me talk shop," Jaime said, abruptly shifting the subject. "You wanted to hear about Marty." She sighed and looked into Doc's eyes. "He really misses you. Man, you two had to be the closest pair on the planet. That's what Grandma always told me at least. And then, there was that fight. What the hell was that about?"

"I -- don't remember. . . . Did Marty ever tell anyone about it?"

"Yeah, Grandma after she went to your funeral. She told me part of it, but it sounded really crazy. Something about him being mad because you wouldn't take him to a 'future doctor.' Did he hear about some new treatment for his hand and you refused to take him?"

Now everything became clearer. Marty must have become upset because he knew someone in the future could probably fix his broken hand. And he, with his characteristic caution about changing the time-line must have refused him. He still couldn't connect the event to his stabbing death, though. _I don't understand why I can't put this together_. "Not exactly. It was a risky procedure, and I didn't want to hurt him any more. The strange thing is, I have no memory of the night I was stabbed. Maybe I have amnesia."

Jaime was eager to offer information. "Marty said you'd been virused -- down," she corrected herself at Doc's strange look, "for a while. Maybe that fight was just the turning point. The doctors told Grandma that you were so annoyed about the fight with Marty that you weren't even thinking when you refused that guy. At least, that's what you managed to tell them."

Doc shook his head. "Don't tell me. I don't want to know." He looked at the ground for a moment, feeling strange. _Damn my stubborn nature. Poor Marty. At least I can back up my insistence about not knowing anything about the future with personal experience._

Then a new resolve came into his eyes. "'To know and not do is not to know,'" he quoted from a source he currently couldn't remember. _I may have acted like a total hypocrite, but at least I can put the knowledge to good use and prevent part of Marty's wrecked future. As for my being committed, I'll just have to watch my back._ "Jaime, you have no idea the help you've been to me today. Thank you. It was wonderful to see you again." He gave her another hug and started to his car.

"Uncle Emmett?" Doc turned around. "Are you going to see Marty again? All this time we all thought you were dead--" A pained look came over her face. "Tell me how you did it," she begged. "Tell me how you made everyone think you were dead. Because otherwise I'm just going to think this was some wonderful illusion."

"Jaime, you would never believe me if I told you. Rest assured that you're not hallucinating, though. I promise you that." He hopped into his DeLorean. "And I promise you, I will see Marty again." _Just not the version you know._


	7. An Ounce of Prevention

__Chapter 7

Sunday, October 27th, 1985

Hill Valley

1: 45 A. M.

Doc sighed as he returned to 1985. Much as traveling through time intrigued him, it felt good to be home again. He landed the car and drove home, formulating his plan of attack for the upcoming daylight hours. The all-important fax still rested in his pocket, his measure of success in helping his friend. If all went well, the fax -- or at least the words on it -- would fade away, much as Marty's siblings had faded in the picture. He had briefly considered getting his fate on hard-copy, but decided that he should focus on helping Marty first and avoiding that second. Things would probably go differently now that Marty would be able to argue for him.

Once he arrived at his home, though, his thoughts about the future were momentarily banished. As he flicked on the light, he noticed what he had not seen before -- Marty's amplifier, totally destroyed. "Great Scott!" he gasped. "How could I have missed that when I brought Marty here? That kid. . . . He must not have listened to my warning. He had the decency to clean up the mess at least." He made a mental note to mention it to Marty. Actually, talking about the amp might make a good lead-in for warning him about his future.

He warmed up some food for himself and Einstein, then lay down on the bed to think. How was he going to explain to Marty his highly hypocritical actions? _I suppose just tell him the truth and offer to cut him a break if he ever does anything like that,_ he decided. _Reduce the lecture or something._ He yawned. _Why do I feel so tired? I had a nice long nap at the RevitaClinc. Maybe it's a reaction to stress, God knows I had a busy day, what with being nearly killed and finding out my best friend's life didn't live up to expectations._ He blinked. _A short nap wouldn't hurt._

Sunday, October 27th

9: 10 A. M.

Doc awoke some hours later to the sound of his door being unlocked. He sat up just as Marty McFly walked in. The teen greeted him with a big smile. "Doc! You're back!"

Doc smiled back. "Indeed I am, Marty. How are you?"

"Doc, it's a miracle. Everything's better. Dad writes for a living. Mom's thin and plays tennis. Linda's popular; Dave's a businessman. And Biff _waxes cars_! It's like I'm in heaven!"

Doc looked at him, confused. "Marty, do you mean to tell me things weren't always like this? I knew you had changed the future when you told me about that punch back in 1955, but it appears people and events have changed drastically."

"No -- Yes--" Marty got the strangest look on his face. "I don't know," he whispered.

Doc immediately got concerned. "Marty? Is everything all right? Your time traveling experiences aren't having an adverse effect on you, are they?"

"No, not really. But remember how you said I'd get new memories?" Doc nodded. "Well, they're coming in, but my old ones aren't moving out! I remember things _both_ ways!"

"You mean your history before you changed the time-line and your history after?" Doc asked.

"Yeah."

"Hmmm, interesting. It could be due to the fact you were not directly impacted by the changes. I'll have to examine that phenomena later. Do you mind if I use your memories?"

"As long as you don't melt my brain in the process, I'm cool."

Doc grinned, then recalled the amp and his mission. He set his face and tone to "stern" and began. "Marty, when I give you a warning, I expect you to listen to me. I saw what happened to the amplifier last night. Didn't I tell you _not_ to hook up to it?"

"Yeah, you did," Marty said, looking guilty.

"So why did you anyway? Didn't you trust my judgement with one of my own inventions?"

"Of course I do! It's just that -- the call came too late."

"Too late?"

"You called me _after_ I blew up the amp," Marty said, embarrassed. "I'm sorry for wrecking it. I tried to clean the place up so you wouldn't notice right away. Standing that bookcase back up was a bit of a b*tch, though."

"What does your exploding the amp have to do with one of my bookcases?"

"It exploded me right into one. Listen, if you need help getting all of your shit back in order--"

Doc wasn't listening as a horrific thought occurred to him. Had the car accident merely aggravated a previously-sustained injury? If that was true, preventing the car accident might have no value at all. "Marty, are you injured?'

"Had a backache for a while, but that went away fast. I'm fine, Doc."

"Good. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, past, present, or future."

"Hey, how was the trip to the future? What's it like? You see anybody I know? You checked up on me, right?"

"One question at a time! The trip itself was amazing. There are technological improvements the people of this decade would not believe. Computers are everywhere, the cars fly, and there's a restaurant dedicated just to this decade."

"You're kidding."

"I'm serious." Doc paused a moment as he wondered the best way to start relaying his information. He couldn't reveal Marty's _exact_ future to him, after all. "Marty, you take my advice, right?"

Marty was thrown for a moment by the change in topic, but quickly recovered. "Sure Doc, all the time."

"Then I want you to listen to me very carefully right now. Sometime today, Needles is going to ask you to drag-race him. I want you to refuse."

Marty blinked, thinking this was a rather strange request from Doc. "Okay, sure. I'll just ignore him."

"I'm serious, Marty. You must not give in even if he calls you 'chicken.'"

The teen looked surprised. "But Doc, if he calls me 'chicken' and I don't race him--"

"Everything will be fine," Doc finished for him. "You can't keep getting so upset every time someone calls you that name. One day it's going to cause you to involve yourself in a trouble-causing business."

"I just don't want to be a coward, Doc."

"You won't be! You'll be sensible. Besides, street-racing is illegal. So there's no reason to perform the action."

Marty suddenly frowned at him. "This has to do with my future, doesn't it?"

"Yes. . . ."

"What happens if I race him, Doc?"

"I can't tell you. At the time it happens, the decision has to be yours. All I can do is offer my advice."

"I want to know what happens! What's wrong with my future? It is mine, Doc!"

"I can't give you details. No man should know too much about their own destiny, even if said destiny is changeable."

"Can't you just give me a hint or something?" Marty begged.

"Let's just say that your future wouldn't be as you'd expect."

Marty looked frustrated, but gave up on wrestling the information from his friend. He knew that there was no chance in hell Doc would tell him his specific future, for fear of harming the space-time continuum. He changed the topic instead. "You got anything from the future you can show me?"

Doc grinned. "Actually, I can answer that one with a yes." With that, he started peeling off the face mask he had put on before reentering 1985. Marty's eyes went wide with shock. "You'll have to excuse the disguise, Marty. While in the future I received an all-natural overhaul. They changed the blood, replaced my spleen and colon -- added a good 30 to 40 years to my life." He pulled the rest of the latex off his face and grinned. "What do you think?"

Marty didn't seem all that impressed. "You look good, Doc."

Doc frowned. "I was expecting a better reaction than _that_." He felt his face, wondering if the RevitaClinic had tried to rip him off. He didn't think so, but you never knew.

The teen suddenly laughed and nodded. "I don't think I'm the best guy to ask, Doc. I lived with that face for a week, so I think I'm used to it! Seriously, you look good."

Doc nodded, pleased. Marty's experience in 1955 was probably affecting his perceptions in 1985. It would be a natural result of time travel. Heck, he was doing the same thing with now and 2015. "I'm glad you think so, Marty."

"Hey, anything that lets you stay around longer is okay with me." He glanced at his watch, then shook it. "Jesus, this thing is shot. What's the time, Doc?"

Doc checked. "9: 32 and 12 seconds."

"Okay, I got time. I'm supposed to pick up Jenny in the truck and go for a ride before tonight. I want to test it out."

"Just remember my advice, Marty."

"I will, I will." Marty shook his head again. "This is _weird_, having double memories. The new truck's great, but I can't remember whether I've had it for a month or since yesterday."

"I imagine it would be tough, dealing with two conflicting sets of memories. Would you mind telling me what you remember of life before?"

Sunday, October 27th

11: 21 A. M.

After riding around for about an hour and a half, Marty pulled up to the intersection that led into Hilldale. He looked appraisingly at the development, just built. "I bet that's where we live someday, Jennifer. Hilldale. I'll be a rock star, and you'll be whatever you want to be, and we'll have kids and a great life."

Jennifer smiled at her boyfriend, quite pleased with his vision of the future. "I hope this place isn't one of those flash in the pan neighborhoods. I want us and our kids to be happy."

"How could we not be?" They kissed.

As they waited at the red light, another truck pulled up. "Hey McFly! Nice wheels!" a familiar voice yelled.

"They're new," Marty yelled back, looking over at Needles in his pickup. Fred Jacobson, Needles's girlfriend Cathleen, and two guys Marty didn't know were all crowded in, grinning.

"You wanna race, McFly?" Needles challenged, revving his engine. "Next green light."

Marty got thoughtful, remembering Doc's warning. "No thanks. Jennifer's in here with me, I don't want her to get hurt."

"Ah, come on, McFly. Nobody's gonna get hurt."

"The truck's brand new too. I don't want to wreck it."

"It's just one race, McFly. What could happen?" Then, more venomously, "Are you chicken?"

Marty's body went tense. He hated "chicken" with a passion. If he passed this opportunity up, he'd be teased for being a coward until the end of the school year. He opened his mouth to say yes.

Then he stopped, remembering Doc's words. He had been really dead-set against him racing Needles today. But why? All he knew was it involved his future somehow, and Doc had refused to provide him with details. What could giving into "chicken" now possibly do to his future? He might hurt the truck, but that wouldn't be much to his future self, he didn't think. _Damn, Doc, why didn't you give me more?!_

Then a thought occurred to him. Maybe there _wasn't_ any more. What if Doc had refused to tell him -- because he had died as a result of the race? A lot of things could go wrong at street-racing. They could hit or be hit by a car, smash into a pole -- anything could happen. And all would lead to a future in a grave.

He looked at Needles, making his decision. "Okay." Needles grinned and revved his engine again. Marty did the same with his.

Jennifer gave Marty a nervous look. "Marty, you really shouldn't," she said quietly.

Marty gave her a reassuring grin. "Be prepared, Jen."

The light turned green. Needles and company speed off with a loud whoop. Marty started off too -- only much, much slower. Jennifer stared at him in shock. "Hey, do you really think I'm gonna race that asshole?"

"He did call you chicken," Jennifer pointed out.

"Yeah, but I talked to Doc before this about the chicken-calling thing -- mostly because he forced me to. He told me I could totally screw up my future if I kept--"

He was cut off by the beep of a car's horn. They looked to see a Rolls Royce pulled out in front of them, the driver looking furious. "Watch where you're going, hooligans!" she screamed at Needles's truck as it disappeared around the corner. She then proceeded to finish running the red light.

"Geez, take your own advice, lady," Jennifer grumbled.

Marty pulled over and stopped, stunned. "Jesus Christ! If I had raced him, she would have crashed right into us!" He grabbed his girlfriend's hand tightly. "On your side, too. Holy shit, I might have killed you. Or the both of us." _So that's what Doc meant. I'm so glad I listened._

"I know. It's scary to think about all those possibilities. At least you finally took Doc's advice. I'm so glad you did."

"Me too, Jen. Me too."

Sunday, October 27th

12: 33 P. M.

After dropping Jennifer back off at her house, Marty returned to Doc's place, intending to get the full story about his "advice." He found the scientist doing a little dance, waving a sheet of paper in the air. When he saw Marty, he laughed and gave him a hearty slap on the back. "You did it, Marty! You did it!"

"Yeah, I -- I did," Marty agreed, completely lost. "Did what?"

Doc gave him the sheet of paper to examine. On top was a company logo: Cusco Industries. On the bottom was a signature by someone named Mr. Fujitsu. Marty looked at it a moment, then turned his attention back to Doc. "Doc, what's this?"

"A fax from the future. The message that was previously printed on it was a communication firing you from your job. But now the words are erased, so that future no longer exists!"

"Fired?? You mean I didn't die?"

Doc stopped dancing and stared at him. "Die? What's this about dying?"

"Doc, the whole reason I took your advice and didn't race Needles was because I thought I died. I figured you didn't tell me anything about the future because there was nothing to tell." The teen went pale as a different possibility forced its way to the front of his mind. "The car was going to plow right into _Jennifer_! Doc, don't tell me I killed Jennifer!"

"No, no, both you and Jennifer originally escaped the accident with more minor injuries," Doc assured him, understanding his fear. "But I have to admit, I'm glad you thought of it in those morbid terms. Death was a definite possibility, I'm sure. And even with those minor injuries you would have suffered, your future would have turned out to be very sad."

"Can you tell me about my future now? 'Cause as far as we know, it's gone."

"I don't know if I should, even now. The future is always in flux; we can't guarantee it won't happen."

"Come on, Doc! You knew your future for 30 years without a hitch!" Noting Doc's sudden unease at the mention of the letter, Marty asked suspiciously, "Did you look up what was going to happen to you too?"

"I -- um -- well -- it wasn't without a hitch! I nearly went crazy wondering about how I was going to invent the time machine!"

Marty grinned. "You caved, didn't you?" Doc nodded, embarrassed. "Okay. Spill it to me. You knew, now I wanna know."

Doc gave in. "I'm going to be as general as possible," he warned. "I have to admit, I would have probably never found out about my fate had I not looked up yours. My death in a hospital from an murder over my wallet--"

"_WHAT?!?_ Start at the beginning, Doc! What's this about getting killed?!"

Doc told Marty almost everything about his trip to the future, leaving out only personal details about the teen's own future. Marty was open-mouthed as he concluded. "So basically everybody's lives turned out like shit. Especially yours, Doc. I can't believe I'd fight with you like that. And that you'd get yourself killed over me."

"Stop right there, Marty. It hasn't happened yet, and there's no certainty on whether or not it will happen. No matter what, it was not and will never be your fault. When I saw your future self, it looked like he was somewhat _obsessed_ with me. I don't want that fate to be yours."

Marty shook his head. "What do you think the future's like now?"

"With any luck, much better for all of us. The car accident seemed to be the event that triggered the whole chain reaction leading to that future. Now that it doesn't happen, things will improve. As for myself, well, let's hope you never get injured so badly only a future doctor could fix it, and that I have the sense to keep away from neighborhoods where I could be mugged."

"I'll keep working on the 'chicken' thing," Marty promised. "After hearing what getting mad at it did to everybody, it doesn't seem worth it."

"I'm glad to hear that." Doc felt something break inside him. "Marty, what I can't believe is that I told you I hate you. You're my best friend, and I had no right to say that to you. No matter what happens in the future, I promise I will _never_ hate you. Ever," he said, his eyes filling with tears.

"I know, Doc," Marty rushed to assure him. "Same here with me. Best friends forever, remember? Don't cry."

Doc blinked away the wet. "Sorry. I considered that extremely cruel of my future self. I had no right doing that to you."

"Hey, with any luck all that's over, right?"

"With any luck." Doc felt his eyes stray to the door leading to the garage. Now that the fax had erased itself, he had the urge to go back to the future and make sure all had turned out well. _Stop thinking about it,_ he told himself firmly. _Your mistake has been corrected. Don't go and make it all over again._

"Hey Doc? Can I ask you a favor?"

Doc snapped his attention back to the present. "Of course, Marty."

"Could you go to the future again and look me up again? I don't want specifics, just to see if things have improved. Besides, you owe me for looking up _your_ future."

"I think I paid off that debt when I told you about your previous future. And I would hope that you would take my experience as a warning _not_ to look yourself there. I'm going to regret doing that for the rest of my life."

"Come on, I don't want much. Just a thumbs up or a thumbs down. I want to make sure I can keep my life away from the crapper. Please Doc?"

"Oh, all right. I had the urge myself, I confess. But I'm making no attempt to gather specifics on either of us."

"Gotcha Doc. I'll see you in the future."

"And in present time, I'll return in about five minutes." He led Marty into the garage and hopped in the DeLorean. "Could you check what sort of traffic's out there for me, please?"

"Sure." Marty disappeared outside. Doc typed into the time circuits:

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 21ST, 2015, 7: 01 A. M.

He wanted to see how the future had changed on that date, and if his slightly younger self was still running around the time-line. He doubted it, but it would be interesting to see if he was.

Marty came back in. "You're not going to believe this, but Burger King is practically empty. I guess everybody's home or something."

"How fortunate. Now I can show you another piece of future technology I acquired." He started up the engine and flipped on the hover conversion. Marty let out a gasp as the wheels turned into hover thrusters. "Way cool, Doc!"

"Thanks! I'll return shortly!" With that, he floated out and gunned the car quickly into the sky. Within seconds, he was gone.

Wednesday, October 21st, 2015

Hill Valley

7: 01 A. M.

Doc flew easily to the Town Square and parked in an available alley. From what he could see, the square looked exactly the same as it had during his previous trip. That didn't worry the scientist too much. _After all,_ he thought to himself, walking out onto the streets, _Marty is but one inhabitant of Hill Valley. There might be some minor changes reflected by his new life, but on the whole, life here should remain--_

"Hey Doc!"

Startled from his thoughts, Doc spun around to see Marty Junior and Marty, standing on the sidewalk opposite of him. Both grinned at his reaction. "Didn't mean to startle you. I thought you were at home working on your experiment!" Marty called.

"I needed some fresh air," Doc called back, very pleased by what he saw. Marty Junior's clothes all fit, his hair was combed, and he had an air of confidence about him. Marty himself possessed a full head of hair, up-to-date clothes, and a healthy, happy look. "What about yourselves?"

"Just a quick breakfast before school starts," Marty Junior explained. "Wanna come?"

"I'll take a rain check," Doc said. "Already ate."

"You sure, Doc?"

"Positive. I'll see you after school, Junior."

"Okay. See ya later, Doc." They both waved goodbye. As they turned to go though, Marty winked at him. Doc nodded and winked back, then went back to the DeLorean.

Sunday, October 27th, 1985

Hill Valley

12: 53 P. M.

Marty was waiting for him eagerly in the garage as he pulled back in. "Well?"

Doc gave him a thumbs up. Marty sighed in relief. "Great! I hope it stays that way."

"Well, the future is always changing based on the choices we make today. So let's leave the future alone and make it a good one through our own free will."

"You bet, Doc. I've had enough of time-traveling for a long while."

The End__


End file.
